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“To the killer the same fate!”
And Spencer Lee, who had never shied away from a performance, gave it his all. He shouted to the crowd that they were cowards. He called out to a winsome young woman that she was lovely and he would be happy to take her as his wife. Shouts of “Cow dung!” and “Hooligan!” met his proposal. Spencer Lee held his head high, smiled broadly, then burst into an aria from a Peking Opera. His audience was thrilled. He was one of the best doomed men they had ever seen.
David and Hulan reached the side of the truck. They each found a handhold and let themselves be pulled along as it continued through the crowd and off the main thoroughfare.
“Spencer!” Hulan called. “Spencer Lee!”
Hearing his American name through the cacophony, the young man looked out over the sea of faces.
“Spencer, we’re down here. Look!”
“Inspector Liu, Attorney Stark!” Lee laughed crazily. “I go to my death. You are here to celebrate, correct?”
“No! Spencer, listen. We’re here to stop this,” Hulan said.
A voice called out, “Shut up! Let the man sing!”
Spencer stared out at the mass of people who pressed against the truck, slowing its progress, then he shifted his gaze back to Hulan. His swagger left him and he looked like what he was—a very young man going to his death. “It’s too late, Inspector.”
“I can stop them!”
Spencer smiled. “You can’t. I can’t. You see, I was wrong.”
“Tell us in Chinese!” someone shouted. “We all want to hear.”
“I am from the Ministry of Public Security,” Hulan yelled. “Let me through. This man is innocent!”
“She must be his real wife,” someone called out. The crowd laughed.
David didn’t understand the Chinese words, but he could see that they would never get to the gate unless the people let them through. “Move!” he shouted. “Get out of the way!”
He felt someone jab an elbow into his side. David lost his hold on the truck and fell back into the crowd. A man hissed, “Go away, foreigner. You have no place here.” David shoved the man aside and grabbed for the truck.
“Tell us the story of your guilt,” a voice trilled. “Confess before you die.” The people sent up a loud roar in support of this suggestion, but Spencer Lee ignored them, looking over the front of the truck’s cab to his final destination. There wasn’t much time left before they would reach the high gates at the end of the street.
“I didn’t kill anyone,” he admitted at last.
“We know,” David said.
“I just did what I was told. They promised I would be protected. Do you understand?”
“Who? Tell us who!”
Spencer avoided their questions. “Everything you said about the Peony was true. I hired the ship. I was there when the immigrants were loaded. I made them sign their contracts. But that was all.”
“The bear bile?”
“A new business for us. A mistake for me. Obviously.”
“We’re going to stop this,” Hulan vowed.
Spencer Lee looked down at her. “You can’t. It was fixed. It was fixed from the beginning.”
“How?”
“The embassy. Your ministry. What does it matter now?”
The crowd was getting impatient.
