The Flower Net (37 page)

“Sure.” After he sat down, she nodded at his cast. “You’re more or less in one piece, I’m happy to see. Can I ask what happened?”

After David told her and thanked her for her assistance, she said, “I’ve never been so scared in my life, and I didn’t
do
anything.”

“Your help meant a lot to us. I don’t know what we would have done…”

“It’s over now. That’s the main thing.” Then, seeing the look on his face, she asked, “Or is it?”

“That’s why I came over here. I have another favor to ask of you.”

He handed her the computer disk. She closed her file and inserted the disk. There were no passwords or secret codes. Instead, the disk had spreadsheets listing shipments, future delivery dates, and payment schedules for nuclear trigger devices made by the Red Dragon Munitions Company, a division of the China Land and Economics Corporation, and sold to a consortium of generals in the People’s Army. Hitting an icon brought up another spreadsheet showing how the consortium had arranged to resell the triggers to several countries and individuals.

“Do you know what this is?” David asked.

Beth Madsen ejected the disk and handed it back to David. “I don’t want to know, and I don’t think you do either.” Then, affecting a carefree manner, she said, “Now let’s see if we can find a flight attendant to pour us some champagne. I think I need it.”

By the time David saw Madeleine Prentice and Rob Butler at the U.S. Attorney’s Office, they’d both already been briefed about his activities in China. He gave them the disk and they never mentioned it to him again. But within a few days, David could see its impact in several small pieces buried deep in the newspaper and in cryptic faxes from Hulan. A new flurry of arrests had been made on both sides of the Pacific. Of those in China, Hulan thought David might recognize the name of General Li, who, until his fall from power, had served on the Central Committee. He was the grandfather of Li Nan, the Red Princess Hulan and David had met that night at the Rumours nightclub.

David was unfamiliar with the names of the men arrested in the United States. Most of them were not American citizens but hailed from places in the world where terrorism was rampant. However, there were a handful of native-born crackpots who had also placed orders through Chinese middlemen to buy the nuclear triggers. To date, Guang Mingyun’s name had been kept out of the press. David suspected that it would never appear.

All this David apparently observed with only passing interest, since he was busy with his own cases. Madeleine had given him the go-ahead to prosecute Hu Qichen and Wang Yujen. Armed with the information Spencer Lee had chanted during his death ride, David subpoenaed Lee Dawei’s financial records from several banks in Southern California and was able to piece together an intricate money-laundering scheme. David then went to the grand jury and had come away with an indictment. Immediately after the dragon head’s arrest, the entire organization started to disintegrate. Now David spent his days interviewing witnesses who willingly stepped forward. He had worked toward this moment for many years, but he had no illusions. The Rising Phoenix had suffered a blow—perhaps even been defeated entirely—but in the vacuum another gang would seize power.

On March thirteenth, David invited Jack Campbell to run with him the next day around Lake Hollywood. In the morning, the FBI agent—dressed in a warm-up suit—met David at the gate that led into the lake property. As they stretched, Campbell kidded David about trying to run with a bum arm, but the younger man answered tersely that it helped his recovery to keep the blood moving. Then, to ease the tension, David clapped the agent on the back, jogged in place for a few steps, and went back to his stretches.

They started out at a leisurely pace. It was still early morning and only a few people had set out ahead of them. The air was fresh and the lake reflected the blue of the sky. David waited until he could verify that no one else was on the path, then he shoved the agent against the fence. David held his cast just under Campbell’s chin to pin him in place. The look of surprise on the FBI agent’s face was quickly replaced by a laugh. “What the fuck! You’re pretty handy with that thing.”

“Tell me what this was all about!”

Campbell attempted a shrug. “What’s to tell?”

“This was never about endangered animals, drugs, illegal immigrants, or the triads. So how about the truth?”

“The truth? Can’t do that,” Campbell said lightly. “You don’t have the clearance.”

David jammed his cast against Campbell’s chin. “I think I
earned
my clearance.”

“You’re sounding pretty tough for an AUSA, but, hey, I’m the one with the weapon.”

A small smile played across David’s lips. “I don’t think so.”

The agent reached behind him for the gun he kept holstered at his waist. His eyes widened when he realized it was gone.

“I took it while you were stretching.”

“I didn’t think you had it in you. You’ve got balls, Stark. I’ll give you that.”

“Let’s try it again.”

But Campbell wasn’t ready to cave in that easily. “What about the other runners?”

“I’ll worry about that when they come. Until then, start at the beginning, and no lies.”

“The beginning…” Campbell said thoughtfully. “I guess that would be with Guang Mingyun. He was up to his elbows in those nuclear trigger shenanigans. Could we prove it? Absolutely not. So we get a break. Here’s this big operator and his only son is murdered.
You
find the body. Guang wants the killer found—
at any cost
. Do you know what that means?
He came to us
. Guang knew his son was up to no good, but he was willing to take the risk that whatever we uncovered might cause him to lose face.” Campbell paused, considered, then asked, “What does it matter now, David? We got the bad guys.”

“Finish it!”

“So he comes to us, like I said. We have a practical government, David. We’re a country of merchants. We always have been. We say, This is gonna cost you. What do you have to trade?”

“The triggers.”

Campbell nodded. “He tells us he’s noticed some improprieties in one of his businesses.” As Campbell said this, a memory of Hulan’s father rushed into David’s brain. At Long Hills, Liu had said that anyone could take advantage of Guang Mingyun. Indeed, while his back was turned, his son had begun cheating him. At the same time, someone else had horned in on the Red Dragon trade. “Guang says he’s willing to give us names if we help him,” Campbell continued. “As a gesture of good faith, he tells us where and when a shipment of the triggers will be delivered. Those arrests were made while you were flying to Beijing the first time, but the people were all low level. But see, Guang has already promised he’ll give us the big guys—generals in the People’s Army no less—if we find his son’s killer. A deal like that doesn’t come around very often.”

“So you sent me to China to get the deal rolling.”

Campbell held up a hand. “Now wait. You’re getting ahead of things. We know that Guang’s a prickly guy. We also know that we’d rather do business with a capitalist like him than some unknown down the line. We’re thinking ahead. We have been for a long time. What’s going to happen after Deng dies? Will the generals take power? Will some conservative wacko emerge from the Central Committee who’s got a bug up his butt about capitalism and democracy? We’ve got analysts who weigh these things and here’s what they tell us: Guang’s bringing wealth to the country. He’s got support from the people. Man, this guy’s consolidated power all along the Yangtze. He’s driven by money, that’s something we can understand. So, back in Washington, they think Guang’s not such a bad guy to have in our camp. We’ve certainly been in bed with worse. To put it bluntly: We’ve got a vested interest in China. Guang Mingyun is someone we understand. We speak the same
language
. Only one thing’s going to hold him back: the People’s Army. We help him find his son’s killer and we help him bring down the strongmen in the army. All this may not happen today or even a year from now, but down the line, we’ll expect tit for tat.”

“All for a price.”

“Exactly.”

“Part of that price was Noel.”

“Yeah, I know,” Campbell said with regret. “But, Stark, he knew what he was getting into. It’s a risk we take every day.”

“What about Watson?”

“Power corrupts.” Campbell shrugged. “These things happen.”

“So you knew.”

“We knew
something
.” Campbell held up his hands again and spoke earnestly. “You understand that when I say ‘we’ that doesn’t necessarily mean me or even the Bureau. I just do what I’m told.” His hands dropped as he said, “Let’s just say that what happened came from the highest levels of government.”

David also remembered hearing that same phrase in China. Everything the president of the United States and all those officials in China had said these last few weeks had been bait used to ferret out the ambassador, Vice Minister Liu, and the generals—each guilty of their own crimes—and to keep Guang from reneging on his deal. All the rhetoric, all the threats, had been nothing more than a political smoke screen. Those people who made up Campbell’s “highest levels of government,” whether here or in China, had toyed with David’s and Hulan’s lives with complete dispassion and the certainty that they would never be revealed.

“We were pawns,” David said bitterly.

“You wanted the truth. There it is.”

“Hulan?”

Campbell tried a nod, but David was right there with his cast.

“Remember getting the security clearance for your AUSA job?” Campbell asked. “We knew about your involvement with a known Communist.”

At this, David released the agent in disgust and strode away. He turned back in anger. “How long did you know?”

“What does that matter now?”

“It matters to me. How long did you personally know about me and Hulan?”

“I guess from our first case. The Bureau gave me a file. You looked like a good guy, but one never can tell.”

“You
played
with our lives,” David said in anguish.

“It was for a greater good, Stark. We’ve picked the right side for once. You’re a part of that.”

There was a time when an argument like that would have worked on David, but no longer. He took one last look at the man he had once called his friend, turned, and continued his run alone.

Hulan stood at her kitchen window, waiting for the water to boil and looking out on the innermost courtyard of her old family home. Spring was just beginning and the temperature had finally started to rise. In the garden, the wisteria vine that an ancestor had planted more than one hundred years ago had begun to bud. Glossy green leaves were gradually opening on the jujube.

The kettle whistled. Hulan poured the hot water into a teapot. While it steeped, she set some peanuts, watermelon seeds, and a few salted plums in little dishes. With her tray ready, Hulan stepped out into the garden. She lingered for a moment under the colonnade and savored the tableau before her. Sitting under the twisting branches of the jujube were her mother and Uncle Zai. The man who had stood by Hulan’s family through good times and bad perched just opposite Jinli on a porcelain stool. The tilt of his head as he spoke to Jinli implied deep intimacy. Hulan crossed to them now. As she did, Uncle Zai self-consciously pulled his hand away from Jinli’s. Hulan set her tray on a low stone table and poured the tea. The three of them sat in companionable silence, enjoying the warmth of the sun.

After David’s departure, Hulan had moved her mother and her nurse back to the
hutong
, where the two of them had taken up residence in one of the bungalows that faced onto the garden. Jinli seemed unaware of her husband’s absence, let alone his death. Rather, she had experienced increasing moments of coherence, sometimes even engaging Hulan in conversation for five or more minutes at a time. Mostly her talk was of childhood memories—of the time she hid from her amah behind the spinning room, of the gardenias that her mother liked to float in bowls of water throughout the house, how her uncles had practiced their juggling and tumbling right here in this courtyard until their mother chased them out. At those moments, Jinli’s voice, although soft and unaccustomed to speech, was as beautiful as Hulan remembered.

There was so much Hulan could do for her mother now. Hulan had her own money, of course, but her father had left behind an estate appropriate to a patriarch of one of the Hundred Families. No land or buildings or stock, just cash. That some of it was profit from her father’s scheme troubled Hulan, but the Ministry of Public Security—under the advisement of Vice Minister Zai—had refused to confiscate any of it. This left Hulan with more than enough money to provide for her mother’s care, to begin restoring the buildings of the compound, and to put some aside for—

“
Eeeah
,” a voice called out. “
Ni hao ma?
” Neighborhood Committee director Zhang Junying stepped out onto the veranda.

“
Huanying, huanying
,” Hulan said in welcome, moving to meet her neighbor before she came all the way into the courtyard. “Come inside the house, auntie. Have you eaten? Do you drink tea?”

Madame Zhang looked longingly over Hulan’s shoulder to where the other two were sitting. “Your mother is looking very well.”

“Oh, she is very tired.” This traditional answer, though untrue, showed Hulan’s respect for her mother’s life of devotion, duty, and hard work.

Hulan took the Neighborhood Committee director’s elbow and led her back into the kitchen. “Sit here, auntie, where you can still see the garden and we can talk without disturbing the others.”

“Very well,” the old woman said coolly, understanding that she was not wanted.

“Come, come, auntie, this is not a day for hard feelings. This is still new to Mama. We must give her time.”

“She shouldn’t get too comfortable here, you know. Pretty soon they’ll come through and mark our homes ‘to be demolished.’ Then the bulldozers will arrive and we’ll all move away. I say, Let’s go before they kick us out like old dogs! We’ll go someplace modern. Get a dishwasher.”