Code Name Komiko (17 page)

Blossom:
Im here.

8:14 AM HKT —
Crowbar has logged on

Crowbar:
Got the ping, whats the news?

8:15 AM HKT —
Torch has logged on

Torch:
Yawn. It’s much too early on a weekend for activism.

Komiko:
Oh my goodness, Torch has a sense of humor!

Torch:
I’m pretty funny when you get to know me.

Torch:
Which you won’t, because anonymity and blah blah blah. I say again, yawn.

Lian found herself laughing at Torch’s words for the first time ever. He was claiming not to be a morning person, but this was the most pleasant he’d been in ages.

Komiko:
Got a little something I thought you might like to see.

8:16 AM HKT —
Komiko has uploaded one PDF

Komiko:
Right there in black and white. “Toxicity above acceptable levels.”

Torch:
Very impressive find, K.

Blossom:
OMG. How in the world did you get hold of a document like this?

Torch:
Not important and not politic. We’ve all got our sources, and they need to stay protected.

Blossom:
Sure. Just amazed, thats all.

Crowbar:
I dont know much re: mercury chloride but I know where 2 look

Komiko:
Fantastic. I was going to do that, but I’m happy to leave it to an expert.

Crowbar:
Lets not oversell my abilities :)

Lian heard the apartment door open and close. Her father must be back from his meeting. She couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, but his voice was louder than normal, his tone clipped and agitated.

Torch:
If the known effects line up with the girl’s autopsy report, C, this might just be enough to implicate Harrison.

Blossom:
Not “the girl,” remember? Jiao.

Torch:
Right, sorry.

First the jokes and now an apology? Lian feared that Torch might be losing his edge.

Her mother’s voice had grown louder as well. This sort of “verbal sparring” wasn’t something Lian was used to from her parents. It gnawed at her for a long moment, and she decided to investigate, to at least hear enough of their words to know what had sparked the argument.

Komiko:
brb

Still in her pajamas and socks, she tiptoed to the end of the hall and cautiously peered around the corner. Her folks were in the kitchen, but she could glimpse her father through the door. He looked twice as harried as he had when he’d left.

“No, Lili, I’m telling you,” he said, sounding nearly manic. “If I don’t push the deal through, they told me in no uncertain terms that there would be
consequences
.”

“You’ve faced consequences before, dear.”

“Not some damned probationary week at work. Not losing the best leads to someone else. No. Consequences for me, you, and Lian. They’re talking about transferring us back to the mainland.”

Lian gasped. Whatever was happening, it was serious. In career terms, a transfer back across the bay was a black eye her father would never recover from.

“They wouldn’t do that,” her mother said, but she didn’t sound very sure.

“They absolutely would. They showed me the papers. We’re four signatures away from losing all of this.”

“But,” her mother protested, sounding as though she was searching for words. “But . . . that wouldn’t be fair to Lian!”

“No. It wouldn’t. That was my first thought, too.”

Lian’s heart swelled.

“And that’s why I have to make sure this deal happens, regardless of my feelings,” her father said. His voice had lost some of its energy; now he sounded defeated and hollow. “The negotiations are at such a delicate point. I can’t afford to push them the wrong way.”

He took off his coat, folded it over the back of a kitchen chair, and then sat down heavily, his fingers at his temples. His wife stepped behind him and began gently massaging his shoulders. The worry on her face was hard for Lian to look at.

“Damn this deal,” her father muttered. “I wish I’d never in my life heard of Rand Harrison or his company.”

Lian ducked back around the corner and let fly a string of foul, whispered curses. How dare Harrison cause her father such misery? Add that to a list of sins that might have no end.

She stalked back to her bedroom, furious, and pounded out her return on the keyboard.

Komiko:
Sorry about that. Needed a little recharge of my righteous anger, apparently.

Komiko:
We have to take Harrison down now. This has got to be our top priority. Every day he’s still in business is a bad day for everyone else.

Komiko:
And I can only speak for myself, but I don’t care what the consequences are to me personally. I just want him stopped.

Blossom:
Strong sentiment, K.

Komiko:
I mean every word.

If Harrison’s downfall meant that her father’s company pulled the power ploy of sending the family back to the mainland, she would of course be sad to say farewell to the school and the friends she had made there. She and Mingmei would stay close—she hoped—but not living in Central would be a huge change otherwise. As much as she often felt guilty about the life of privilege she led there, she had to admit that the readjustment would be brutal. She worried more for her parents, though; they had earned this lifestyle and might struggle to deal with taking a “backwards step.”

Crowbar:
Glad U R back Komiko, I was abt 2 tell the others, got a look at the 2ndary postmortem on Jiao

Crowbar:
Or on Unknown Asian Female, I should say, she still hasnt been IDed

Crowbar:
This new report lists COD as drowning

Blossom:
COD?

Torch:
Cause of death. Cod don’t drown.

Lian smiled in spite of herself.

Blossom:
Got it. But I thought the first report said no water in the lungs, so drowning wasnt an option?

Crowbar:
Thats just it

Crowbar:
The 1st report has been deleted. Its not anywhere in the system.

Lian felt a chill. This wasn’t some clerk accidentally clicking the wrong box. This was deliberate. A cover-up. There was no doubt in her mind.

Blossom:
Look, maybe its time we talked to the police. If chemicals are making Harrison workers sick, the police have the resources to investigate.

Blossom:
At this point, keeping this info from the cops is the same as standing by and letting it happen.

Torch:
. . .

Torch:
Well, I disagree. The local police have failed to come through in the past, in too many cases to name. They’re not a safe bet.

Torch:
I suggest that we go to the Labor Department. They have the power to shut Harrison down if they have just cause.

Torch:
And I doubt they’re as easily infiltrated as the police department. There’s less of a chance of Harrison getting a heads-up from an inside man.

Komiko:
Wait, we’re losing sight of the human face of this. Jiao deserves justice, and someone is clearly working hard to prevent her from getting it.

Komiko:
It isn’t enough that Harrison Corp suspends operations for a couple of weeks while they figure out who to bribe. We need to close them down permanently so no one becomes the next Jiao.

Crowbar:
I C your point & I dont disagree, but the Labor Dept is a good call

Torch:
If nothing else, it’s a start. It’s a way to shine a bigger light on Harrison than anything the four of us alone can manage right now.

Blossom:
Agreed. Contacting the authorities is the next step in the bigger picture.

Blossom:
Jiao is important, but a full-scale look into the chemicals has to be the priority.

Lian’s three compatriots seemed united in their course of decisive action, but Lian could not share their enthusiasm for the method. Only she had seen Jiao up close, and only she had heard the anguish in Zan’s voice upon learning that his sister was dead. The others would never understand why it meant so much to her that the dead girl be avenged.

But maybe that meant that their method was the right course of action. For now.

Komiko:
Fine. Torch, you’ll handle alerting the Labor Department?

Torch:
I’ll send them an anonymous tip-off to look into the chemicals. Happy to hear any suggestions you guys have about the wording.

Komiko:
I’ll let you three hash that out, if you don’t mind.

Komiko:
I think I’m all crusaded out for the day. Going back to bed.

8:49 AM HKT —
Komiko has logged off

Just before she closed her laptop, Lian was surprised to see a Facebook friend request. She really only used the social networking site to keep in touch with friends back on the mainland. She clicked through and saw a picture of a boy heading down a water slide on his stomach.

Accept friend request from Taylor Brandon?

Lian smiled and clicked “accept,” along with the message: “Nice to meet you the other night, Taylor. The least scary American I’ve come across yet.”

“Were you asleep?”

Lian cleared her throat, but the words still came out gravelly. “It’s three in the morning. Do you want the truth, or the polite lie?”

“I’m sorry,” Zan said on the other end of the phone. His voice sounded agitated. “Normally I wouldn’t call at this hour, but something strange happened, and I thought you’d want to know.”

She sat up in bed, yawned, and switched on the lamp on her nightstand. “Okay,” she said. “You’ve got my ear. The other four senses might need a minute to catch up.”

“Right. So, the bus came to get the night shift, just like clockwork. We’re most of the way to work when suddenly the driver turns around and takes us right back to Chungking Mansions. No explanation at all. And no space for us, of course, because the day shift’s mostly asleep already.”

“Huh,” Lian said. “That is weird.”

“It gets weirder,” he said. “Within an hour or so, more workers show up. This time it’s all the women and the youngest kids. They’ve got nowhere to go but into the apartments. It’s standing room only, everybody’s whispering, trying to figure out what’s going on. But of course none of us knows any more than anyone else.”

Lian was fully awake now. “Okay. I think you were right to call me. This sounds major.”

“No, no, no,” he said in a rush. “You haven’t heard the major part yet. Because there’s a knock on the door, and half a dozen government types come walking in. Dark suits, ear radios, just like you see in the movies.”

“Government guys?”

“Hong Kong Department of Labor,” Zan said.

Lian punched the air, even though it wasn’t “like” her. Less than twenty-four hours from the tip-off to their arrival. Every once in a while, the wheels of bureaucracy spun in the right direction.

“They divided the room into small groups and interviewed a bunch of us,” Zan continued. “Seemed to be concerned about payroll documentation, on-the-job injuries, eligibility for work, all that sort of thing. I think this is it, Lian. I think this is the beginning of the end for Harrison Corp.”

“Zan,” she said, smiling. “It is always okay to wake me up at 3
a.m
. with news like that.”

“I’ve gotta go,” he said. “I’m in the next group to talk to them. I’ll tell you more when I know more. Try to get some sleep in the meantime.”

“I’ll try,” she said. “But this might be too exciting to sleep through.” She hung up, switched off the lamp, and laid her head back on the pillow, prepared for her thoughts and speculations to keep her up until dawn.

But within moments she was out, and she slept more soundly than she had any night since seeing the dead girl’s face.

When she woke in the morning, Lian was full of energy and in good spirits. It was tempting to phone Zan to see what he’d learned from his interview, but she didn’t want to interrupt anything or risk waking him after his long, strange night.

So she channeled her restlessness into a spirited session with Zheng, nestling the violin at her collarbone and drawing the familiar notes of Mendelssohn’s Concerto in E Minor from its strings. Just as she was about to transition into the second movement, the Andante, the doorbell rang. Her concentration broke for a fraction of a second, and she held a quarter note too long.
Always shy of perfection,
she thought, laying the instrument and bow on her bed and going to the door. She opened it without checking through the spyhole.

“Good morning, Lian.”

She felt her blood turn to ice. Rand Harrison stood before her, his voice as sharp as his suit, his face wearing a tight smile completely without joy. On either side of him stood a dark-suited associate, their hands behind their backs and their stares unblinking.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Harrison?” she asked, hoping her voice wasn’t betraying her terror.

“You?” he said, still smiling. “You can’t do anything. I’ve come to see your old man.” His eyes narrowed. “In a purely informal capacity, of course. Just two friends, chatting on a Sunday morning.”

“Of course,” she said.
Two friends and two corporate goons
, she thought to herself. It didn’t sound very friendly at all.

But she saw no choice other than to invite them in and lead them down the hall. “Father,” she said, knocking at the open door to her father’s study. “Your good friend Mr. Harrison is here.”

She left them in the hallway and returned to her room, closing the door and quickly bringing up iTunes on her laptop. Typing “Mendelssohn” into the search bar got her more than a hundred tracks, including several versions of the concerto she’d been rehearsing. She scrolled until she found the one she wanted—Janine Jansen, solo violin, no accompaniment—tweaked the volume, and hit Play.

Then she crept out of the room, closing her door behind her with a quiet click. She snuck back down the hall and stationed herself outside her father’s study. The decoy music was just loud enough to sound like she’d returned to her practice (and become a much better violinist). She had nearly half an hour’s worth of eavesdropping before she’d need to sneak back and restart the mp3.