White Tiger (54 page)

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.