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“But she didn’t?”
“No. She’s dead, murdered, I believe.”
“Is there an investigation into her death? Is there anything that can tie her to us?” Randall asked.
“Those are two questions. The answer to the first is not officially. The answer to the second is I don’t think so.”
“Then we have nothing to worry about.”
“What about Keith’s death?”
“I understood you were the target there.”
“I have reason to believe I wasn’t.”
Randall sighed. “Miles thought this might come up—some kind of post-traumatic stress thing. Look, I’d like to help you through this, but the fact is I’m not trained for it. Miles will be in Beijing tomorrow. Cry on his shoulder.” Randall glanced at his watch. David was supposed to take the hint and leave. When he didn’t, Randall asked, “What?”
“What you just said is so out of line, I hardly know what to say.”
“David, you represent me and my company. Focus on that. If there’s another matter I should know about…” He eyed David curiously, as if sizing him up. “Have you seen those papers you mentioned? Is there something in them that I should be concerned about? If Pearl Jenner doesn’t have them, then where are they? Are we going to be blackmailed?”
David couldn’t answer all of these questions without putting Suchee in possible jeopardy. Instead he said, “I don’t think anyone has plans to blackmail you. As far as what’s in the papers, they show that the factory building wouldn’t be safe in a fire. There aren’t enough exits and…”
Randall grinned again, clearly relieved. “That’s nothing. We install another door or two. No problem.”
David couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “The child labor and the rest of it?”
“How can I say this except bluntly? Tartan is already aware of those issues. Women getting hurt? Chemicals? Why do you think we’ve been in China for the past twenty years? It’s because we can get away with a lot.” Randall rose to signal the end of the meeting. He opened the door, then, seeing David’s appalled look, said, “Don’t look so shocked. China’s helped build Tartan to what it is today—a billion-dollar company. Don’t lose sight of that or your potential place in it.”
He clapped David on the shoulder and fairly pushed him out the door. “Forgive me, but I’ve got to get out to Knight. We’ve got a full schedule today.” And he shut the door in David’s face.
Furious, stunned, outraged, David walked back to his room. Everything Randall had said was true. Even if David stepped forward—and he was cognizant of all the problems that would cause him personally—it would only be a fleabite on the corporate butt of Tartan. Still, he couldn’t allow the sale to go through as it was laid out.
Back in his room, he once again called down to the hotel operator and asked to be put through to Henry’s suite. When no one answered, David called Knight International. A receptionist with a lilting voice informed him that Mr. Knight wasn’t at the compound nor was he expected until eleven when the festivities would begin. “What about Douglas Knight?” David asked.
“No, sir, he isn’t here either. Perhaps you should try the hotel.”
David called back down to the hotel operator and was transferred to Doug’s room. But he wasn’t in either. David went to the hotel dining room, hoping that the Knights would be having breakfast. They weren’t, so he went back upstairs.
He waited a half hour, called again at the compound and the hotel for both father and son, but they were still unreachable. David began to pace, checked his watch, then sat down and punched in what felt like dozens of numbers. If it was 9:00 A.M. here, it would be 5:00 P.M. yesterday in Los Angeles. Miles Stout’s secretary answered the phone and verified that Miles had left the city. “He’ll be arriving in Beijing tonight your time. He’ll be at the Kempinski if you need to talk to him.” David thanked her and asked to be transferred to the voice-mail message center. He tapped in his pass code and waited. He had six new messages.
The first was from Miles, who repeated almost word for word what his secretary had just told David, adding, “I’ll be half dead by the time I get to the hotel, but maybe we can have breakfast together. I’d like us all to be on the same page when we meet with Randall and his people.” Next, David heard Rob Butler’s voice asking how things were going in private practice, informing him that there’d still been no progress on the Rising Phoenix investigation, and reminding him that if David needed
anything to be sure and call. “You know, Carla’s always wanted to see the Great Wall,” Rob said. “Maybe we’ll come out for a vacation and you can show us the sights. Anyway, it’d be a great way to get in a game or two of tennis. Do they have tennis courts out there? Send an e-mail if you can.” Eddie Wiley left a message saying that the downstairs toilet had backed up and was there a plumber that David used.
Interspersed among these calls were three from Anne Baxter Hooper. At the sound of her voice, David conjured up Anne’s grief-stricken face. “The operator at the U.S. Attorney’s Office told me I could reach you here,” she said. “I must say, I’m surprised to hear that you made that move. Well, give me a call.” She spoke her number carefully, then added, “I really want to talk to you. You can call collect if you want.”
The second message said simply, “This is Anne, Keith’s sister. Please call.” In the third, which had come in just that morning, she sounded impatient. “Since my brother died, I’ve left you several messages. I’d appreciate a call back.”
David erased the messages and hung up the receiver. He thought about the day of the funeral and the accusation in Anne’s eyes. At the time he had thought himself to blame for Keith’s death, but the picture had changed. How much should he tell her about her brother? Was it better for her to know the truth or continue to believe that her brother had been an innocent victim? And what was the truth anyway?
David dialed Anne’s number in Russell. The phone rang four times, then was picked up by the answering machine. Anne’s two children spoke in unison. “You’ve reached the Hoopers. We’re not in right now, but leave a message and we’ll call you back, back, back!”
After the beep, David said, “Anne, it’s David Stark. I only got your messages today. I’m in China and it’s a little after nine in the morning. I’m in a hotel and I’m going to be leaving soon, but I’ll be back in Beijing tonight. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
David hung up and resumed the pacing he’d started last night, which only exacerbated his feeling of being ensnared. He stopped, searched through his papers, found the number for Governor Sun’s office, and dialed. The woman who answered didn’t speak English. But after repeating Sun’s name several times, he was transferred to Assistant Secretary Amy Gao. When David said he urgently needed to see Sun, Amy asked him to come straightaway. “Governor Sun has several appointments this morning,” she said, “then he’s going out to the factory. After that we’re flying back to Beijing. Still, I know he’ll make room for you.”
David packed Sun’s papers in his briefcase, went downstairs, and found Investigator Lo ready with the car. They rode a few blocks down Yingze Avenue and stopped at the guardhouse of an official-looking compound. On the gate was a plaque with red and gold Chinese characters announcing that this was the headquarters of the provincial government. A Chinese flag flew from the building’s roof. The guard, armed with a machine gun, wore the drab green uniform of the People’s Liberation Army. He eyed David in the backseat as he phoned the main building. Once he got the okay, he had Lo sign a check-in sheet, then waved them through.
