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One look at their faces told Rhyme that he was also right about the bad news.
Sachs and Rhyme exchanged a troubled glance.
Rhyme looked from one to the other. "Well, Christ, one of you say something."
Dellray uttered a long sigh.
Finally the detective said, "They took him out of our jurisdiction--the Ghost. He's being sent back to China."
"What?" Sachs gasped.
Angrily Dellray said, "Bein' escorted onto a flight later today." The agent shook his head. "Once it takes off he's free."
Chapter Forty-seven
"Extradited?" Rhyme asked.
"That's the fuzzy little spin they're putting on it," Dellray growled. "But we ain't seen any single solitary arrest warrant for him issued by a Chinese court."
"What does that mean, no arrest warrant?" Sachs asked.
"That his fucking guanxi's saving his ass," Rhyme said bitterly.
Dellray nodded. " 'Less the country that wants the extradition shows valid paper, we never send nobody back over. No way."
"Well, they'll try him, won't they?" Sachs asked.
"Nup. I talked to our folks over there. The high-ups in China want him back, lemme quote, 'for questioning in connection with irregular matters of foreign trade.' Not a breath 'bout smugglin', not a breath 'bout murder, not a breath. 'Bout. Nothin'."
Rhyme was stunned. "He'll be back in business in a month." The Changs, the Wus and who knew how many others were suddenly at risk again. "Fred, can you do anything?" he asked. Dellray was well thought of in the FBI. He had friends at headquarters down on Pennsylvania Avenue and Tenth in D.C. and had a good stockpile of his own guanxi.
But the agent shook his head, squeezing the cigarette that rested behind his right ear. "This li'l decision got made in State De
partment Washington. Not my Washington. I got no clout there."
Rhyme remembered the quiet man in the blue suit: Webley from State.
"Goddamn," Sachs whispered. "He knew."
"What?" Rhyme asked.
"The Ghost knew he was safe. At the takedown he was surprised but he didn't look worried. Hell, he told me about killing Sung and taking over his identity. He was proud of it. If anybody else'd been collared like that, they would've listened to their rights and shut up. He was goddamn bragging."
"It can't happen," Rhyme said, thinking of the poor people floating dead in the Fuzhou Dragon and lying bloody on the sand at Easton Beach. Thinking of Sam Chang's father.
Thinking of Sonny Li.
"Well, it is extremely happenin'," Dellray said. "He's leaving this afternoon. And there's not a single damn thing we can do."
*
In the Federal Men's Detention Center in downtown Manhattan the Ghost sat across the table from his lawyer in a private conference room, which the lawyer's handheld scanner had assured them was not bugged.
They spoke in Minnanhua Chinese, quietly and quickly.
When the lawyer was finished telling him about the procedure for his release into the hands of the Fuzhou public security bureau the Ghost nodded and then leaned close. "I need you to find some information for me."
The lawyer took out a pad of paper. The Ghost glanced at it once and frowned. The lawyer put the foolscap away.
