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During the next few minutes, tea was brought in and Spencer Lee checked his contraband. When Zhao saw what the merchandise was, he once again feigned curiosity.
“What do you have there?”
“Bear bile.”
“I bring that into the country for you and you don’t tell me?”
“Yes, but you will be paid, remember?”
As Spencer Lee measured the loose crystals, Zhao asked, “Where do you get that?”
“It is no concern of yours.”
“You tell me things, I will understand. Next time I make this trip for you I do an even better job.”
There was silence on the transmission as Lee considered. “Yeah. Okay. You did a good job. You got here, right?” Zhao didn’t respond. “Up in Jilin Province, too many Koreans. They’re not trustworthy and the price is too high. Heilongjiang Province is too remote—close to Beijing if you can fly but dangerous, and it’s too hard to get merchandise to Beijing overland. So, we get our bear products from Sichuan Province.”
In the van, Hulan said, “That’s where Guang Mingyun was in the labor camp.”
David thought, Right, and so were your father and Section Chief Zai.
The transmission resumed with Spencer Lee. “Hundreds of bear farms around Chengdu and the police don’t care who buys, who sells. You know what I mean? We go to the airport. We tell the officials that our bear bile comes from a farm with a license. Everything is legal. No problem.”
“Why is some in a bottle, some loose like that?”
“Different products, different farms, same price.”
“But that one in the bottle is Panda Brand. That company is Guang Mingyun company.”
“So?”
“Guang Mingyun works for you?”
In the van, as Hulan translated this exchange, David marveled at how deftly Zhao was playing to Lee’s ego.
“Guang Mingyun has many businesses,” Lee replied enigmatically.
“I see,” Zhao said, as though deep in thought. “Guang Mingyun is Rising Phoenix, too.”
“A curious man can become a dead man,” Lee remarked. “Guang Mingyun likes money. I like money. You like money. That’s enough to know.”
Zhao nervously fell back into the sycophant role. “You use me again next time, right? I bring more in for you, maybe work for you. Maybe come to America?”
“We’ll see,” Spencer Lee said.
“What do you want me to do now? You have another job for me?”
“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.
