Cape turned the card over in his hands. “And this is an invitation?”
“More like a strong suggestion you show up.”
“When?”
“It doesn’t say,” replied Mitch. “Which means you’re probably already late.”
Chapter Thirty-nine
Hong Kong, 10 years ago
The old nurse told Xan she would sit with Sally until she regained consciousness, then notify him right away. She held the girl’s hand and sang to her softly, stroking her hair.
Sally’s eyes moved feverishly behind their lids as, for the first time in months, she dreamt of her parents. She could remember their faces when she awoke but nothing else. No sense of whether the dream was happy or sad. Just their faces and eyes-full of love, devoid of judgment, telling her without words she still had much to do.
Sally opened her eyes and started at the face leaning over her. She recognized Ping as a nurse who had been at the school since Sally first arrived. Last year, Ping had watched over Sally for two days while she recovered from a concussion.
The old woman smiled and leaned back, patting Sally’s hand.
“Welcome back, little dragon.”
Sally blinked herself awake and tried to sit up, groaning as she pushed against the pillows.
“Ping, where is…?” she began, then looked past the old woman’s shoulder at the cot next to hers.
Jun lay there, her eyes closed, arms straight by her sides. Her skin already looked marbled, as if she had slowly turned to stone while Sally slept.
“I’m so sorry….” said Ping, her voice trailing off as she watched Sally’s face. “Master Xan insisted we put her here, next to you, until he returned.”
Sally appeared not to have heard. She swung her legs over the side of the cot and stood shakily. Ping started to object but saw Sally’s expression and moved aside. “You’ll probably want some time alone,” she said, stepping toward a curtain that separated this part of the infirmary. “Master Xan will want to know you’re awake.”
This time, at the mention of Xan’s name, Sally turned, her brow furrowing. For a moment Ping feared the girl might have sustained another concussion and was disoriented, but then Sally’s face cleared and she smiled briefly at the old nurse.
She said, “Some time alone would be nice.”
Once Ping had left, Sally sat next to Jun and ran her hand slowly across her face, feeling Death’s cold embrace in every fingertip. After a long moment, she bent down and kissed Jun lightly on the lips, then put her mouth next to her ear and whispered.
“It should have been me.”
Sally blinked, but no tears came. The part of her that shed tears had atrophied to the point that she no longer expected them. She knew Jun was long gone from this body, and no amount of sorrow or crying was going to bring warmth back to her flesh. Sally turned toward the curtain and breathed deeply, trying to clear her head. Xan would be here soon.
Though her dream remained elusive, the image of her parents had flashed into her mind again at the mention of Xan’s name. And though she didn’t yet know what she was supposed to do, she suddenly realized where she had to go.
Sally reached for the pile of clothes sitting on her nightstand. Slipping out of the compound in broad daylight would be difficult, but not impossible. After all, it was what she was trained to do.
She was over the wall before Xan reached the infirmary.
“She’s gone?”
Xan’s scar writhed back and forth as his expression changed from impatience to disbelief. But when it finally settled down, Ping could have sworn Xan looked more relieved than angry.
“She’s gone,” he repeated quietly. Ping remained mute and nodded.
Xan looked around the infirmary, now empty save for Jun’s body. He took in a deep breath and nodded to himself before pulling the curtain closed. Then he turned to face Ping.
“Tell no one.”
Chapter Forty
San Francisco, present day
Cape was driving down Battery when his cell phone rang. He pulled over next to a hydrant, aware that his driving was questionable even when he wasn’t talking on the phone.
He knew the reason for the call as soon as Beau’s voice came booming out of the tiny handset.
“Thought maybe you lost your phone,” he said, the phone vibrating. “Third time I called.”
“Sorry,” said Cape. “Meetings.”
“You got a digital camera?”
Seemed like a good idea at the time. “Sure,” said Cape, his tone guarded.
“Take any pictures lately?”
“Sure.”
“Mail any pictures lately?”
“You mean the Golden Gate Bridge at sunset, the Ferry Building, that sort of thing?”
“How about dead Chinese guys?”
“Oh, that picture,” said Cape. “How’d you know it was me?”
“The envelope had your return address on it.”
“I didn’t want you to worry about a sociopath on the loose.”
“I always said you were thoughtful,” replied Beau. “Matter of fact, that’s what I’ll say at your defense hearing. Your honor, he was stupid, irresponsible, had no regard for the law, but he was one thoughtful motherfucker.”
“I had second thoughts after sending it.”
“How ’bout second thoughts when you were taking it?” The phone almost jumped from Cape’s hand. “You ever hear don’t leave the scene of a crime?”
“Fuck you,” said Cape. “You ever hear of the anonymous tip?”
Cape could hear Beau sigh on the other end, a long whistling through the speaker.
“Where is he?” demanded Beau.
Cape blinked. “Who?”
“I’m not playin’ here,” said Beau. “This is my job we’re talking about. I get a picture of a dead man in the mail, I’m supposed to find the dead man and-this is the important part-find the dude who killed the dead man in the first place.”
“You don’t have the body,” Cape said stupidly.
“What am I saying here?”
“You saw the sign in the photo?” asked Cape. “The Chinese Merchants Benevolent Association, the plaque in the background?”
“Now you’re insulting me?”
Cape frowned. Of course Beau had seen the plaque-that’s why Cape framed the photo that way. Stir things up, get local cops involved again. For all the feds or the police knew, this murder was unrelated to the immigrant ship, so homicide would have to take the lead. And Cape’s real motivation-get the cops talking to Harold Yan, someone with influence in Chinatown who could pull a few strings. Get someone with power to take an interest in solving this case.
“You still there?” Beau’s tone was insistent.
“You talked to Yan?” Cape asked, feeling the answer forming in the pit of his stomach.
“Busy man,” said Beau. “But polite as can be.”
“He never saw the body?”
“Didn’t recognize the guy, neither,” said Beau. “’Course, he thinks we have the body and were just lookin’ for an ID-I’m not advertising a missing body just yet.”
“You press him?”
“You crazy?” asked Beau. “No, wait-let me rephrase that. It didn’t seem prudent to suggest to Harold Yan, the mayoral candidate, that he might be full of shit.”