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“Jack,” she said, answering after a single ring.
I could hear a lot of background noise at the other end of the line. “Where are you?” I asked.
“Just about to board a plane to New York. I’m with Sci and Mo-bot. Jessie Fleming and Lewis Williams were shot last night while you were in the air.”
I stopped in my tracks, my mind reeling.
“Jessie is alive, but Lewis …” Justine hesitated. “He didn’t make it.”
I sighed deeply and fought back grief that threatened to overwhelm me. How could this have happened? Passengers from my flight hurried by, oblivious.
“Rafael has asked us to assist.”
I couldn’t reply.
“Jack? Are you there?”
“I’m here,” I assured her. “I’m sorry. I just … you caught me off-guard. Rafael’s right. You need to help steady the ship and get Jessie whatever care she needs. Send our condolences to Lewis’s family and implement the death-in-service procedures.”
“Will do,” she said. “I spoke to Zhang Daiyu and let her know.”
“Good. Send a message to all offices to let everyone know what’s happened. We might need to be more vigilant.”
“Exactly what I thought,” she replied. “Two attacks in twenty-four hours can’t be a coincidence, can it?”
“I don’t know.” It was extremely unlikely, but not impossible. Our work was dangerous.
I suddenly became aware of the sounds and sensations of the airport around me. “I have to go. Zhang Daiyu will be waiting.”
“Be careful, Jack.”
“You too,” I replied, before hanging up.
I pocketed my phone and took a moment to compose myself. Lewis was a popular young investigator, and this loss would be felt keenly by everyone in New York. Jessie was the head of Private New York, a brilliant detective I’d recruited out of the FBI. I prayed she would pull through. Part of me wanted to be there with Justine, Sci and Mo-bot, bringing whoever did this to justice, but I felt a similar obligation to my Chinese colleagues too. I pulled myself together and re-focused.
I had no checked baggage so made my way through the vast hall to Arrivals, where I saw Zhang Daiyu almost as soon as I stepped beyond the automatic doors. She stood in a crowd ofdrivers holding placards with American names on them, and friends and family members waiting with bleary eyes and smiles of eager anticipation for the first sight of their loved ones. Zhang Daiyu nodded and made her way along the barrier to meet me.
“Mr. Morgan,” she said.
“Please call me Jack,” I replied.
“Zhang Daiyu.” She offered me her hand in formal greeting and I shook it.
We’d spoken a little during Shang Li’s monthly briefings, but never met in person before. I was familiar with her exceptional record while serving in the Beijing Police. She’d worked organized crime and had faced down some of China’s most dangerous gangsters. She was five feet five and slightly built, with short black hair cut into an angled bob. She wore a dark pantsuit and flat shoes that looked as though they’d be good for running. Some people might overlook or underestimate her, but not me. Even if I hadn’t been familiar with her service record, she had steel in her eyes. The world had tried to break her and had failed. Like a tempered sword, she’d come through the flames stronger and sharper.
“I’m sorry to hear about what happened in New York,” she said.
“Thanks. It’s been a difficult twenty-four hours for all of us.”
“Do you think the incidents are connected?” she asked.
“I don’t want to jump to conclusions at this stage. I’m so sorry about Kha Delun, Ling Kang and Jiang Jinhai,” I said. “And Shang Li of course.”
“We don’t know he’s gone for good,” she responded. “I can’t believe they would kill …”
Her voice wavered and for a moment I thought the tears that filled her eyes might spill over.
“I can’t believe they would kill him and not leave him to be discovered with the others. Why would they do that? But I don’t want to jump to conclusions either.”
