I forward the email to another address, the one I used to write John aka Cinderfox. Then I delete it from my inbox and sent mail. I know it’s not gone, not really. The best I can do is hope that no one decides to look.
And now I have to decide. What do I do next?
I can’t go back to my apartment.
I can’t go to any hotels, because I’d have to show my passport.
I might be able to get out of town on a train or a bus if Uncle Yang isn’t watching. But then what? Where would it make sense for me to go?
Maybe it’s time to call my old pal Carter and see if he can fix things for me with the American embassy so they’ll protect me. I’ve got two dead girls and an offshore company to trade. That should be enough.
But then there’s my mom. And Andy. What happens to them if I pull the plug on my life here? Can I bargain to take them with me? Would they want to go?
What would any of us do?
If it was just me, I swear to God, I’d get my ass out of here and go hide someplace where the living’s cheap and I could just… I don’t know, just be.
Where is that place anyway? I don’t have a clue. Does it even exist?
And it’s not just me. It’s my mom. It’s Andy. It’s people I work with, like Lucy Wu, like Harrison Wang.
Okay, well, maybe not Harrison. He’s got the resources to take care of himself.
But there’s Lao Zhang, who says he’s coming back to Beijing.
Plus, there’s Creepy John. If I bail and his bosses find out he’s been protecting me…
If I bail, are they all going to look guilty?
On the other hand, if I stay and end up going down, will they be any better off?
In the back of my mind, it’s like there’s this worm turning over, whispering in my ear: if I’d never met Lao Zhang, I wouldn’t be in this mess.
But what kind of life would I have? The way I’d been going before I got involved with Lao Zhang was nowhere but down.
There’s no time for what-ifs, I tell myself. Not now.
“Fuck it,” I mutter. I pick up my phone and dial Vicky Huang.
I don’t know what I’m going to say to her. Depends on what she says to me. Just try to stall, I guess. Give John a chance to do what he’s going to do. Maybe I can hide out at Harrison’s place in the meantime. You can’t beat the coffee.
Vicky doesn’t pick up, which surprises me until I remember that I’m calling from a number she doesn’t know. Instead I hear a loud burst of a cheesy orchestral arrangement of “My Heart Will Go On” (of course) and a beep.
“Hello, Vicky, it’s Ellie. Ellie McEnroe. Sorry for the delay in calling you. I… uh, had some phone problems. Anyway, you can reach me at this number.”
I disconnect. Drain the rest of my Yanjing and lift my hand to have the waitress bring me another. Maybe I’ll pop for the Rogue Ale instead, even though it will most likely be stale. I’m already so nervous my hands are sweating, and I nearly drop my pint glass.
It takes all of a minute for Vicky Huang to call me back.
“Where have you been?” she demands. “Why do you always have this trouble with your phone? Maybe you need new one.”
“Yeah. Well. This time I dropped it on the subway tracks. So I definitely needed a new-”
She cuts me off. “Mr. Cao is very anxious to talk to you about your findings. Very anxious.”
“Right, well, we’re still meeting to discuss-”
“Mr. Cao wants to talk to you now.”
And with that she hangs up.
I’m just taking my first sip of Rogue Ale when the phone starts playing System of a Down’s “Hypnotize,” the default I use for an unknown caller. Blocked. Sidney’s private number, presumably.
“Hello, Ellie!” He sounds unexpectedly cheery.
“Hi, Sidney. Uh, sorry for the delay in getting back to you. Stuff has been-”
“I am hearing strange things. Some very strange things.”
“Yeah. Well. It’s…”
What do I say?
“Kind of a mess.”
“Yang Junmin is asking me what I think about you. I tell him you help me with getting the Zhang Jianli artwork, and I ask you for some help with family business. He doesn’t like this very much.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, which is a stupid thing to say, but it’s about all I’ve got right now.
“I tell him of course I don’t know everything about you. So maybe there is some problem I don’t know about.”
Oh, like the ones where the DSD is on my ass and the PSB has me as a murder suspect?
“The problem is, your son Tiantian had a party, your other kids and Marsh and Uncle Yang and Dao Ming were guests, and a waitress ended up dead.”
Because fuck it. What else can I say at this point? Either he already knows or he’s going to find out.
There is a long silence on Sidney’s end.
“I see,” he finally says. “So who has killed her?”
And I can’t tell if this is the first time he’s heard it or if he already knew.
“I don’t know.”
“But you have an idea.”
“No. I really don’t. It could have been anybody. Anybody who was there.”
“Then you can help find out.”
I did not just hear this.
“What?”
“Of course, if the killer has no connection to my children, then it does not matter. You don’t have to worry.”
“You want me to find out who killed her? Sidney, this is…”
Crazy.
Slow down. Remember, you’re dealing with a billionaire who can swat you like you’re a crippled little ant.
“Sidney… I’m not a detective. I don’t know how to do what you’re asking me to do.”
“Of course you can!” He sounds like one of those amped-up motivational speakers you see on late-night infomercials. “Just continue to do what you do before.”
“Which is… what? I mean… what do you mean?”
“You can just spend some time with my children. They all like you very much.”
I don’t even know where to start with this.
Stall, I tell myself. Just stall. Then, when you get off the phone, bug out to Harrison’s place, hole up, and wait for John to get in touch.
Assuming that he does.
“Okay,” I say. “Sure. I can do that. It might take me a day or two to deal with things here, but-”
“I think you must act quickly. You must… strike while the iron is hot.” He sounds very proud of himself for coming up with this phrase.
“Okay,” I say. “Will do.”
I have this vivid picture in my head of Harrison’s penthouse, of his very comfortable guest room, of packaged silk pajamas, good meals, fine wine, awesome coffee, and beautiful art. Just get there, I think. Hide.
“Oh,” Sidney says. “I should tell you. Your mother has come for a visit.”
Chapter Eighteen
★
It takes me a moment to absorb this.
“You kidnapped my mother?”
“Ellie.” Sidney sounds hurt. “How can you say such a thing?”
The nice thing about being really pissed off is that rage tends to push the fear away.
I take a deep breath. I need to calm down, and I need to be smart. Because I can’t reach through my iPhone and strangle Sidney. There’s no app for that.
“Sorry,” I say. “It’s just that I don’t understand. My mom’s in Xingfu Cun?”
“Yes. She and her friend have some car troubles. On the road.”
I try to piece this together. I know Sidney’s MO. I experienced it a couple of months ago.
“So… you had people following my mother. And when they had this ‘car trouble’-”
“I invite your mother and her friend to come for a visit.” He sounds very happy about this. The jovial host. “Because of course I want to meet your family. Since you have met mine.”
Silence. I’m not sure how to fill it.
Finally I say, “Is my mom close by? Because I’d like to talk to her for a minute.”