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“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.”
