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“I am indebted to you for coming so far. But please, please sit down. Have you eaten yet? Do you drink tea?”
“Mr. Guang, we have eaten. Yes, we drink tea, but we had some just before we came,” Hulan said.
As Guang Mingyun continued his banter with Hulan over whether or not she “drank tea,” David could see why the businessman had been so successful. Patrick O’Kelly had told him that Guang was seventy-two, but he presented himself as a man in the prime of life—dynamic, physically fit, astute. His handshake was strong. He was the first Chinese whom David had met—and admittedly he hadn’t met that many—who didn’t seem to worry that someone might be listening in on him. The sadness in his brown eyes gave the only indication of mourning.
“You will drink tea,” Guang Mingyun decided, and his secretary discreetly backed out of the room.
Hulan, her hands poised delicately on her lap, said softly, “Mr. Guang, we are so sorry to come at this time…”
“I want to offer you and Attorney Stark as much information as I can.”
“Do you have any idea how your son came to be on the China Peony?”
“I have never heard of this boat and I’m sure my son hadn’t either. I am most confused by this and cannot explain it.”
“Are you aware, Mr. Guang, that your son’s death may be connected to that of the American ambassador’s son?”
“I am, but I am confused by this as well. How could this terrible thing have happened to both Billy and my son?”
“You knew Billy Watson?” David asked, incredulous.
“Of course I knew Billy Watson. He was my son’s best friend. They were always together.”
Without missing a beat, Hulan asked, “Tell me about them. How did they know each other? What did they do together?”
Guang Mingyun’s voice dropped as he described the relationship between the boys. The two had met the summer after Ambassador Watson was appointed. Guang Mingyun had hosted a party at his compound and the entire Watson family had attended. The two boys had quickly become friends. And soon Billy was a frequent visitor to the Guangs’ compound in Beijing and their vacation villa at the shore in Beidaihe.
The conversation paused when Guang Mingyun’s secretary entered. She poured the tea into Cantonware cups exquisitely decorated with hand-painted scenes of women and pagodas. She set out dishes of watermelon seeds, peanuts, and salted plums. As soon as she left, Guang Mingyun resumed his story. When Henglai graduated from Middle School Number 4—the academy that catered to the sons of important Beijing families—he applied to and was accepted by the University of Southern California. Guang Mingyun had allo
wed his son to travel to Los Angeles only because Billy Watson would be attending the college as well. When Henglai decided that he no longer wanted to pursue his studies but return to Beijing, Guang Mingyun couldn’t have been more delighted. “My son was precious to my wife and me. We never liked to have him away from home.”
“When he came home, what did he do? Did he work for you?”
“My son is not interested in business, but he is young,” Guang Mingyun answered, slipping into the present tense. “He has his own apartment. He has his own friends. He is still a boy—young, not like when you were growing up, Inspector, or I was growing up. Times are different today. These children, they don’t understand the struggle. They don’t understand hard work. So I think, if he wants to have fun with his friends, especially with Billy, what harm can come of it? These days relationships between the two countries should be encouraged. We can all profit from those friendships, and, in the meantime, my son will grow up.”
“Is there any possibility that your son was trying to escape to America?” Hulan asked. “Did he want to emigrate?”
“No, he had everything he could want here.”
“Some young people want to leave China.”
“Inspector Liu, if you are trying to get me to say something against our country, that will not happen. My son had every chance in China. And besides, he could travel back and forth to America whenever he wanted.”
“You mean he still traveled to America?”
“Oh, yes.” Guang Mingyun stood, went to his desk, and opened it. “I have my son’s passport here. You can see, he had no trouble getting visas. That’s because he always came home.”
Hulan took the passport but didn’t open it. “May I keep this?”
“Of course.”
Hulan slipped the passport into her purse, then asked, “Tell me about his friends.”
“What can I tell you? You know who they are. You know where to find them.”
“Mr. Guang, I thank you for your help.” Hulan rose to leave.
“Excuse me,” David said. “But I have a few questions. What are your business ties in the United States?”
