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“That’s not it at all,” she said quickly. “I love you. I want you to come, but I don’t like what I’ve seen at the Knight factory and—I don’t know—this is happening so fast. Miles never does anything without deliberation.”
“But that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Miles isn’t the only voice here. Everyone at Phillips, MacKenzie has been thinking about this for a long time.” His voice faltered, and she understood how deeply she’d hurt him. “It’s sudden,” he said, “but it’s an opportunity. It’s our opportunity.” His words got lost in another wave of static, then: “No more bad connections, just the two of us together.”
“When does your flight get in?”
“Seven-fifteen on the tenth,” he said, then clarified, “your Thursday.”
“You may beat me back to Beijing,” she said. Hulan had yet to tell David about the peculiar circumstances of Miaoshan’s death, the strangeness of the Knight compound, or her now postponed plan to go into the factory, but she would when they met in Beijing. “I don’t know how easy it will be for me to get back to the city, but I’ll try to return in time to meet your plane. If I’m not there, I’ll send my new driver. Don’t worry, he’ll find you.”
They spoke for a few more minutes, then David said, “Soon we’ll have all the time in the world to talk, but I should go. I have to be at Phillips, MacKenzie in the morning. I have a lot to do tomorrow to close up this life. We’re going to be together, Hulan. We’re going to be happy.”
Suddenly that old caution crept back into Hulan’s voice. “I hope so, David, I really hope so.”
They hung up, both knowing that a lot had gone unasked and unanswered.
The next day David spent his first hour back in the luxurious fold of the firm with Miles’s secretary. Marcia explained that she would handle David’s time sheets and billings from here. She’d manage his workload when he was in town and take care of personal things like forwarding his mail to China. She’d also make sure that he received all interoffice memos in Beijing—or wherever in the world he happened to be—and that any phone calls that did come in for him were routed to his as-yet unknown number in China. She told him that the firm had just hired a Miss Quo Xuesheng as a secretary and interpreter in China. Miss Quo was already scouting out office space and setting up appointments for him upon his arrival.
Then Marcia left him alone with several files, which would bring him up-to-date on the firm’s overall business and strategic plan. At noon, David swung back down to the U.S. Attorney’s Office, where Rob and Madeleine held a farewell gathering. Then he went back to Miles’s office for a final briefing on the Knight matter.
“I’ve handled business for Tartan and Randall Craig for twenty years,” Miles said. “The Knight deal is a great opportunity. There’s a lot of money involved—seven hundred million—but not much can happen now to sour the deal. We’re at that point where the sale has its own momentum and we’re just along for the ride.”
“Are there any problems I should know about?”
Miles shook his head. “Smooth sailing. Henry Knight is a widower and has one grown son. Henry’s an ethical guy, a lot like you actually. He’s run his business cleanly even when he could have made shortcuts here and there. Top profit has never been his main motivator.”
But the factory was in China, David pointed out. That had to cut costs.
“Sure,” Miles said, “but that’s just a side benefit. He sees himself as a philanthropist. He’s given money to hospitals, children’s organizations, various shelters. For Henry, China’s just another cause. He’s always loved the place. I don’t know. It goes back to the war, I think. Anyway, he thinks he’s helping the people he hires. Having come from a farm myself, I know what a shit life that can be.” Miles shrugged as if to shake away the memories. “When you get over there, you’ll meet Governor Sun and his assistant, Amy Gao. They’re with the local government.”
“You’ve met them?”
“I met Sun on my first trip to China, but otherwise I’ve just dealt with his assistant. She has a Chinese name, but like so many of them she goes with an American version of her first name and puts her family name second. Amy Gao is a smart woman, ambitious. She’s come over here, been up at the firm. You’ll like her. If you have any problems, talk to her. I’ll come over for the final signing.” He paused, then said, “Now, don’t get worried that I’ll be butting in. This is your matter now. I mean it when I say go with it. Although I can?
?t say there’ll be much to go with. The work is done. All we need now are the John Hancocks. And as far as that goes, I couldn’t miss the final signing. Randall Craig and Tartan have been a big part of my career.”
That night, after David finished packing, he tried calling his parents, but they were both out of the country. His father, an international businessman, had separated from David’s mother shortly after David was born and played little part in his life. David’s mother, a concert pianist, was on tour. David left messages on each machine, then went to bed.
The next morning, Eddie—having promised to house-sit for as long as David wanted—drove him down to LAX. At eleven-fifteen David boarded a 747 and sank into his first-class seat—one of the many perks of being back in private practice. He remembered back to just four and a half months ago when he’d been on this same flight. He’d been nervous and unsure of what to expect. He’d plotted every move, using his legal background to logically plan his life. He’d hoped that somehow he would see Hulan, not knowing at the time that others had long planned their meeting. Looking back, he saw someone lacking in spontaneity, afraid of living on the edge, often in the position of reacting instead of setting things in motion himself.
Four months later he was a very different man. Sure, he still sought his friends’ counsel and advice before making a decision. (He was cautious. He always would be.) Most definitely he’d haggled over his compensation, firm points, title, and expenses. He’d also thought a lot about Keith’s death. Was David running away now to escape his guilt? But Madeleine and Rob were right. With him out of the picture, the last of the Rising Phoenix renegades might make a mistake. When they did, the FBI would be there.
As for what had troubled Keith on that last night, David might never know the full story. Clearly an ethical issue had troubled Keith, but maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought; maybe he’d been more upset about his girlfriend’s death but didn’t know how to talk about it. And maybe, David thought ruefully, Keith had just been tired and stressed, worn down by these brutal transpacific flights and the strain of the deal. What mattered now was that David had found an honorable way to get back to Hulan.
Although David had tried these last two days not to read too much into their last phone call, he wondered what Hulan hadn’t told him. When he’d said he was coming and she’d asked, “What for?” it had momentarily taken his breath away. Then he’d decided to take her query at face value. He hadn’t told her his plan from the beginning, thinking that if it didn’t work out she’d be disappointed. But as their conversation went on, he couldn’t help but hear her wariness. Maybe that was just Hulan. She was always so guarded, always afraid of the ways that good things could be ruined by bad. Despite this, he convinced himself she was glad he was coming. He knew he could make her happy. In a few more hours they would be together with no ocean or secrets between them.
When he’d last flown out of Beijing it was March 1. The sun had just begun to warm the city, but the vacant land between the runways had still been frozen hard and the airport had been cold and damp. On July 10, at a little before midnight, as the plane taxied to the terminal, David looked out the window and saw men working under the lights wearing only loose shorts, sandals, and earphones to block the noise. When the door of the plane swung open, a wall of heat and humidity flowed into the first-class cabin.
David took a place in line for passport control behind another business traveler and watched as the back of the man’s shirt quickly darkened with sweat. An officer dressed in a drab green short-sleeve shirt took David’s passport and leafed through the pages. He briefly looked up, compared the photo to David’s face, stamped the book, then handed it back without a word. David grabbed a luggage cart, loaded his bags, passed through Customs, then pushed his way through the exit and to the curb, where a man dressed in a black suit stepped forward and extended his hand.
“I am Investigator Lo,” he said in heavily accented English. “I am here to drive you to Inspector Liu’s home. She arrived a short while ago and is waiting for you there. She has instructed me to take you to your appointments tomorrow.”
A few minutes later Lo threw the car into gear, honked his way through the airport, and roared onto the toll road. This route didn’t offer all the sights of the old road, which ran parallel to this one, but within twenty minutes Lo had reached the city. Even at this late hour the streets were awash in neon, filled with people walking and on bicycles, and aromatic with the rich smells coming from street vendor carts. Soon the car began snaking its way through the narrow alleyways of Hulan’s hutong neighborhood. The car pulled to a stop before a simple wood door set in an austere gray wall.
Lo unlocked the gate, handed David his bags, and said good night. David stepped over the threshold into the first courtyard, and his nostrils filled with the fragrance of night-blooming jasmine. He wandered farther into the compound, past the first, plain courtyards, then into the more elaborate courtyards, past colonnaded buildings that had once housed the many generations of Hulan’s mother’s family, and finally to the door of Hulan’s quarters. It was unlocked and he walked in.
He very much felt her presence in these rooms. Her scent hung lightly on the air. There was a bowl of oranges on the table and a silk blouse draped over the back of a chair. David’s longing for Hulan was greater now than during all the months of separation. He stepped into the bedroom and saw her in bed, waiting for him. He stripped, sank onto the bed, and wrapped his arms around the woman he loved. She nuzzled into him. Her body was warm and her words were tender. Soon their murmured words were replaced by soft groans of pleasure.
David marveled at the changes in Hulan’s body. Her breasts felt larger under his fingertips. Her stomach—always hard and flat—had a gentle swell. He let his tongue and lips move lower, constantly aware of her breathing, listening to the changes that would signal she was ready for him. Finally her hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him back into her arms. She wrapped her legs around him, guiding him into her. Her eyes met his, and he knew he was truly home.
