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“Do the people at Phillips, MacKenzie know?”
Hulan shrugged.
“And she’s a Red Princess?” David asked.
“In two ways. Her grandfather was on the Long March, while her father has made millions in his government position.”
“So she knows who I am.”
Hulan smiled and nodded.
“And she knew perfectly well that I didn’t need an apartment.”
“Um, I don’t know about that. That may have been a test for both of us.” She leaned over and reached for another grape. As she did this, her robe fell open, exposing the curve of her breasts. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to take a small apartment just to keep gossip down.”
“Will it be better for you?”
She closed her eyes and played out different scenarios in her head. When she opened them, she said, “Take an apartment, but you’ll live here.”
“She showed me space in the Capital Mansion.”
Hulan shook her head and laughed. “That’s because she lives there, just like Guang Henglai and Cao Hua did. It’s very popular with the young crowd.”
“Well, I’m not going there.”
“No, of course not. I know a good space for you. It’s not fancy, but it is close by. We’ll look at it tomorrow.”
“Okay, but I don’t want to pay through the nose.”
Hulan smiled. “It’s not you. It’s the firm.”
“Still, I don’t like to be treated like a sucker.”
“You’ll be treated like a foreigner no matter what.”
“Which means getting fleeced?”
David told her about the prices that he was expected to pay for a fax line.
“That’s not so bad,” she said. “Consider this: Until a couple of years ago, foreigners could only send faxes during the day because the government surveillance people who monitored the lines all went home at five.”
“But that’s no longer in effect?” he asked, relieved.
“No, it’s still in effect. We just have people working all night now.”
“They can’t possibly monitor every fax!”
Hulan shrugged again, and a little more flesh was exposed. “Believe what you want to believe.” She pulled another grape from the stem. This time she slipped it and the tip of her index finger into David’s mouth. “If you think that’s unfair, think about what you—or rather the firm—must be paying your Miss Quo.”
But David didn’t respond with words, overcome as he was by the reflexive stirring he felt in his loins. Hulan let her finger languidly trace a path from his lips, down across his chest, to where the cotton sheet edged against his skin. Her voice was husky as she said, “The typical translator makes about seven hundred dollars U.S. a month of which the state-run agency receives about six hundred and thirty dollars. Then you look at someone like your Miss Quo, a Red Princess, very well connected. Phillips, MacKenzie is probably paying her a hundred thousand dollars a year.” But David had heard enough. He covered her mouth with his, and they continued a far more intimate conversation.
8
ON DAVID AND HULAN’S FIRST FULL DAY TOGETHER, SATURDAY, Investigator Lo picked them up and took them to a building not far from her home. The corner o
ffice suite was simple. The walls were painted white; the furniture was restrained; there was a phone, a copy machine, a fax, and a television set. The view presented a panorama of Beijing. Looking behind him, David could see into the courtyards of Hulan’s—and his—hutong neighborhood. Stretching out in front of him were the red burnished walls of the Forbidden City. After looking at the office, they rode the elevator up four flights to see an apartment, which came fully furnished and with the same spectacular view. Miss Quo arrived and she and Hulan carried on a lively conversation in Mandarin. At the end of it, Hulan switched back to English. “Good, then everything is taken care of. Attorney Stark will be here Tuesday at nine.”
On Sunday and Monday, they stayed home. While Hulan puttered around the house, David continued familiarizing himself with the Tartan-Knight paperwork and the list of prospective clients given to him by Miles Stout. On Tuesday, July 15, they both rose to the sounds of the yang ge troupe. David showered, shaved, and dressed in a lightweight suit. When he came out to the kitchen, Hulan was standing over the stove, stirring a pot of congee. David ate, then it was time for him to leave. Arrangements still hadn’t been made for a driver, so Investigator Lo took David down to his new office.
