The Flower Net (22 page)

“You go back to China, like the original plan. Next time I need someone, I will have Cao Hua contact you.” In the van, the team heard the sounds of teacups being set down, a chair scraping on the floor, and Spencer Lee opening his wallet. “Here’s your money. I’ll have someone take you to a motel. You stay there. Don’t get into trouble. Tomorrow we’ll take you to the airport. You did a good job for us. I will remember you next time.”

As Zhao offered profuse thanks, Hulan said, “That’s our cue. Let’s go.”

The group walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. When Spencer Lee answered, Jack Campbell said, “You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent…”

Even sitting in a federal jail interrogation room, Spencer Lee’s impertinence showed no signs of diminishing. If anything, he became even more haughty. So far he had refused his right to an attorney or to a phone call. He seemed convinced that he could rely on his wits. Only his chain-smoking betrayed any tension.

At David’s insistence, Hulan and Peter were barred from the room. From where they now stood on the other side of a two-way mirror, they could see Spencer Lee in profile sitting on one side of the table with David sitting directly opposite. Their faces were just inches apart and the intensity with which each man spoke was perceptible even through the glass.

“Isn’t it a fact that you are a lieutenant in the Rising Phoenix gang?”

“Rising Phoenix? I have told you before, we are a fraternal organization.”

“You and your cohorts chartered a boat called the
China Peony
in December of last year. At the beginning of January, you picked up Chinese immigrants and brought them to America. Your crew deserted the ship.”

No answer.

“Who do you purchase bear bile from in China?”

Again David received no answer.

“How did Billy Watson and Guang Henglai fit into your scheme?”

“I’m unfamiliar with those names.”

“They weren’t couriers in your business?”

“I don’t know what business that could be,” Lee said evenly.

“Tell me about your connection to Guang Mingyun.”

“Guang Mingyun?” Spencer Lee let the name linger on his lips contemplatively.

“You spoke with Mr. Zhao about Guang Mingyun this evening.”

“You must be mistaken.” Lee lit another cigarette.

“I’m going to ask you again,” David said calmly, deliberately. “Would you care to elaborate on Guang Mingyun’s involvement in the smuggling of medicinal products made from endangered animals?”

“I’m getting tired of these questions,” Lee said.

“I see from your passport that you travel back and forth from China with some regularity,” David continued.

“A month here, a month there. No difference.”

“Not every Chinese gets a visa so easily,” David tossed out.

“The American embassy…” Lee hesitated.

“Yes?”

“I have a good record with the American embassy.” Cigarette smoke curled about Lee’s face.

“Are you implying that you pay bribes for your visas?”

Spencer leaned forward, putting his face close to David’s. “Mr. Stark, you have no proof of anything. Why don’t you let me go home?”

David stared Lee straight in the eye. “I do have one more question concerning your passport.”

“Go ahead.”

“A passport, as you know, records the dates of exit and entry.”

“So?”

“I see you were in Beijing for a little more than a month from December tenth to January eleventh.”

“So?” Lee repeated.

“So, the
China Peony
was chartered on December eleventh. It was a large ship, so its cargo took a couple of days to load. This took place on January first and second. On January third, it set sail. But of course you know all this.”

“I have already told you I know nothing about that ship.”

“During this time there were two other occurrences in Beijing that are of interest to me,” David said in a conversational tone. “On December thirty-first, Billy Watson, the son of the American ambassador, disappeared. On or about the same date, Guang Henglai, the son of Guang Mingyun, also disappeared. As I’m
sure
you know, the body of Henglai was found aboard the
Peony
. Perhaps even more intriguing from where I sit is that the body of Billy Watson was found on January tenth. And why is that interesting? Because the very next day you flew to Los Angeles.”

The eyes of the two men remained locked. The muscles of Spencer Lee’s jaw clenched. David’s look was stony. The Chinese man broke the silence with a toss of his head and a light laugh. “I guess I will make that phone call now.”

Twenty minutes later a triad lawyer sat at Spencer Lee’s side vehemently arguing that his client hadn’t been advised of his full rights, claiming unlawful entry, and generally making a loud fuss over the lack of sufficient evidence. Spencer Lee was booked and put in the lockup. His lawyer was told that there would be a bail hearing before a federal magistrate in the morning.

The arrest, even without the satisfaction of all the questions being answered, was cause for celebration. Instead of going together as a group, the different factions came to a tacit agreement. Jack Campbell outlined an evening of American debauchery for himself, Gardner, Peter, and Zhao: a visit to Universal Studios for a tour and rides, followed by bar hopping and putting away as much liquor as their bodies could handle, followed perhaps by a couple of lap-dancing clubs. Zhao declined the invitation, saying he was exhausted. David and Hulan would have a quiet dinner.

But first a certain amount of paperwork and other odds and ends needed to be handled. Hulan wanted Spencer Lee sent to China, where he would be tried for the murders of Watson and Guang, rather than have him stay in the United States, where he would face only the relatively minor smuggling counts.

But China didn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States. Phone calls were made to the State Department and to China’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs to see if an exception could be made, but David and Hulan were basically told by their respective governments that they were out of their minds. “We just caught those bastards trying to sell nuclear trigger components in our country,” Patrick O’Kelly responded. “If the Chinese want to discuss the proliferation of nuclear arms, then we will be happy to listen.” When David argued that the man from the State Department had gotten him into this, that he was the one who wanted the murders solved, O’Kelly answered, “The situation has changed. National security is far more important than the deaths of two people half a world away.” When David said that Ambassador Watson might not feel that way, O’Kelly hung up on him.

O’Kelly’s counterpart in Beijing was no less adamant. “The United States government is nothing but an aggressive regime. The president is weak-minded, fat, and a braggart! The Americans are trying to use the face-washing basin to cook fish! But we will not stand for their nonsense or their insults. There are no triads, and we certainly aren’t selling our nuclear technology abroad. These fantasies are insulting to the people of China. Tell the Americans to get their warships out of the strait, then maybe we can talk.”

After the calls, Hulan asked, “Isn’t there something we can do? Can’t you deport Lee?”

“We need to have grounds for deportation—that he entered the country illegally or that he was here illegally,” David answered. “As far as I can tell, his papers are in order. We can deport him
after
he’s tried, convicted, and served his sentence for smuggling, but…”

“But what?”

“But that doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll end up in China. He’ll get to choose which country he wants to go to. We can’t be assured that he’ll pick China.”

“Especially if he knows I’ll be waiting for him.”

“In the meantime, everything Laurie’s told us about the light penalties for smuggling convinces me that Lee will be released on bail tomorrow.” David could only hope that the magistrate would listen to his pleas that Lee presented a threat to the community, that the U.S. Attorney’s Office believed he was tied to the smuggling of human beings as well as the murders in China, and would decide to hold him. Either way, Hulan and David would continue looking for evidence to tie Lee to those crimes.

Before the two groups went their separate ways, something needed to be done about Zhao. He had spent the last couple of hours sitting in an orange plastic chair in the jail’s lobby. In those two hours, he had seen a side of America that made him long for the familiar hardships of his home village. David had in the back of his mind that they would put Zhao in the witness protection program, but this took time to set up. David pulled out his wallet, gave $100 to the immigrant and a credit card number to Noel Gardner, and said, “Take Mr. Zhao to a hotel—a good one. We’re all tired. We’ll figure everything out tomorrow.”

With smiles, bows of the head, and a final round of shaking hands, Zhao was led away by Gardner, who would drive him to a nearby hotel, then hook up with Campbell and Peter later. As Zhao walked down the grungy hallway, David saw a man who still looked confused by the world around him but was no longer resigned to his fate. Zhao bobbed his head once more and gave a thumbs-up, which meant the same thing in China and America.

At last, David and Hulan left the station and headed out to Patina Restaurant on Melrose. David ordered champagne. The waiter popped the cork, poured the liquid into fluted glasses, then quietly backed away. David and Hulan sat in companionable silence. They were both tired but feeling a deep sense of accomplishment.

Finally David said, “I’ve been thinking about Guang Mingyun.”

He didn’t notice Hulan’s grimace.

“He has all the money in the world. Why would he risk getting caught for smuggling?”

“Sometimes people get addicted to making money,” Hulan said.

“But why would a guy like that deal with the Rising Phoenix?” David persisted.

“We don’t know for sure that Guang is involved with them. Remember, Zhao asked the question, but Lee didn’t answer it.”

“Okay, but just suppose he is.”

“The triad has a method of transporting the merchandise and the connections here to sell it.”

“I see that,” he agreed. “But then why would they kill Henglai? Or Billy, for that matter?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Guang was trying to cheat the triads and they retaliated. Maybe the boys were trying to cheat Guang.”

David shook his head. “Neither of those can be right.”

“Why?”

“As you said yourself, neither of us would be working on this case if it weren’t for Guang.”

Hulan reached across the table and took his hand. “Let’s not talk about the case anymore. Please?”

He looked at her then, relishing the delicious irony of her request. Only a few days ago, he was pleading with her to talk about something besides the case. Besides, she was right. They had done a lot in the last two days. What harm could there be in having some time just for the two of them?

After dinner, they returned to Hulan’s hotel room. They stood facing each other. He put his hand on her cheek, then slowly let it glide along her neck, over her collarbone, down to her breast. They took their time unbuttoning each other’s clothes. His mouth lingered on Hulan’s nipples. She moaned in response to the caress. Soon her lips sought the tender nook under his left ear, then went to the hollow place at the base of his neck before continuing their downward journey. Tonight David and Hulan would make their passion last.

Several hours later, they were awakened by the ringing phone. It was a sign of how much Hulan had let down her guard that she didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Hello,” she said sleepily.

She and David had been nestled together on their left sides like two spoons. His hand had draped over her waist and held her left breast. Now she felt that hand begin to travel as the voice on the phone said in educated Mandarin, “We have something to discuss. Please meet me at the Green Jade Café on Broadway. You may of course bring Mr. Stark.”

Hulan put the receiver down and pushed David’s hand away. In a low voice, she reported what she had just heard. He sat up, looking worried. “We’d better call the FBI. They can get ahold of Gardner and Campbell. Let them take care of this.”

She shook her head. “No. The caller asked us to come. He wants to tell us something. If we want to hear it, we’d better go alone.”

“It’s dangerous,” he insisted, but her look told him she was not afraid.

After David and Hulan left the room, they stopped and knocked quietly at the door of Peter Sun’s room. When they received no answer, Hulan glanced at her watch. It was after midnight.

“He should be back by now,” she said.

“He’s just with Campbell. Don’t worry about it.”

David drove down to Chinatown. Pink, yellow, and green neon lights from the closed shops and restaurants glowed on the deserted streets. David pulled into the open-air parking lot of one of the strip malls that lined Broadway. For the first time since being in California, Hulan felt chilly, and David put an arm around her as they walked to the Green Jade Café. Neither of them carried a weapon.

Once David and Hulan reached the windows of this modest establishment, they could see that it was closed for business. Hulan suddenly flashed on the image of Cao Hua’s body. Believing now that another gruesome spectacle awaited them inside the restaurant, Hulan wished that they’d followed David’s advice and called the FBI or the police. The Green Jade’s door stood wide open, and they entered. The smell was enough to tell them why they had been summoned there.

“Maybe you should wait here,” Hulan whispered.

“I was going to say the same thing to you.”

“I’m accustomed to death,” she said.

He took her hand. “We’ll do this together.”

Cautiously they walked into the restaurant. They listened but heard nothing. David gestured toward the kitchen and Hulan nodded. They edged around the cash register and pushed through the swinging doors.

Zhao lay in five pieces. His arms and legs had been cut off in the traditional punishment for betrayal against the triads and tossed carelessly aside. His head and torso lay discarded in the middle of the floor. Behind him, on the stove, a huge triple-layer dumpling steamer sent out putrid fumes. Hulan was the first to move, crossing the blood-smeared floor gingerly and turning off the burner. David bent over Zhao, looked into the man’s eyes, and relived the moment on the
Peony
when he had felt that tug on his pants leg. Gently David closed Zhao’s eyes, stood, and went to Hulan’s side. She seemed paralyzed, staring at the huge steamer.