They continued to wait.
At about four in the morning a car stopped in front of the building. The three men stood up. Graves cautiously looked out the window.
“Two men are getting out,” he said. “There’s a third in the car. .”
Laski and García placed themselves on either side of the door to the apartment. But first, García removed the newspapers covering the dead woman. Graves remained at the dining table, in the dark. All three had their guns drawn.
A few minutes later the door opened and one man, then another, entered.
“Don’t move,” García said.
Laski turned on the light and slammed the door shut. Their two visitors were Chinese, one who they’d seen in Café Canton. They looked around slowly and saw the three cops, guns drawn. Their faces showed no emotion. Graves stepped forward and frisked them. One was carrying a gun and the other a knife.
“That’s all,” Graves said.
He placed the weapons on the dining table. The two men, their hands raised, had not moved. Graves said:
“We’ve got to bring in the guy in the car.”
He left quickly. Laski said:
“Sit in those two chairs, against the wall.”
One of the Chinamen said something in Cantonese. García smashed him across the mouth with the butt of his gun. His lip split open and blood gushed out.
“Shut up, and if you do speak, make sure it’s in a Christian language.”
“I understand Cantonese” Laski said.
“That’s why it’s better if we all speak Spanish. Sit down.”
The two Chinamen sat down.
“He was telling his friend not to talk.”
“Let him say it in Spanish. And you, too, Ivan Mikhailovich, if you’ve got something to say, say it in Spanish.”
The Chinamen sat absolutely still in their chairs, like two ancient emperors on their thrones. Graves opened the door and entered, pushing ahead of him another Chinaman, his face covered in blood.
“He didn’t want to come,” he said.
They sat the third Chinaman down. Graves pointed at Anabella’s corpse.
“Why did you kill her?”
“She is of no importance,” said the Chinaman who had spoken Cantonese. His Spanish was perfect.
“Why did you kill her?” García asked in turn.
“She wanted money.”
“Why?”
“She is of no importance.”
“That’s why you killed her?”
“How much money do you want? We can give you money, a lot of money. More than any Mexican policeman has ever seen in his life.”
“How much money?”
“A thousand dollars, American dollars.”
García slapped him across the face. The Chinaman almost fell off his chair. He got up and wiped off the blood that was dripping from his mouth.
“Five thousand dollars. Five thousand dollars, in cash, for each of you.”
“In cash?”
“Yes.”
“In fifty-dollar bills?”
“If you want.”
“Where’s the money?”
“Sounds like a good deal, doesn’t it?”
“I want to see the money.”
“We’ll give it to you.”
“Now.”
“Okay.”
“Come on.”
“I have to go get it.”
“Sonofabitch Chink. You think we’re going to let you go?”
“I promise you, we have the money.”
“Where?”
“We have it. One goes. Two stay here.”
“Why don’t you call someone and tell them to bring it?”
The Chinamen thought for a moment. This is the one who gives the orders, at least to these two others. He doesn’t even consult them. And I think he’s Cuban, the way he drops his s’s. Now things really are complicated, now that Cubans are mixed up in it.
The Chinaman said:
“I’ll make a call.”
“There it is, on the table, next to your girlfriend.”
The Chinaman got up and walked over to the telephone. To reach it, he had to move one of Anabella’s legs out of the way. He dialed the number. Laski stood next to him. All three watched him dial. 3-5-9-9-0-8. When someone picked up, the Chinaman spoke quickly in Cantonese. He did not beg. It sounded like he was giving orders. He hung up abruptly and returned to his chair.
“He’ll be here in twenty minutes,” he said.
“What did he say, Ivan Mikhailovich?”
“He spoke to someone named Feng. He told him to bring fifteen thousand dollars.”
“Did he specifically say it should be in fifty-dollar bills?”
“No. And there was one part I didn’t understand. Sounded like a code.”
“I gave him the address of the house,” the Chinaman said.
García turned to Graves.
“Tie them up, Graves. They say that you FBI agents take special classes in how to tie people up.”
Graves went into the bedroom and returned with two sheets. He tore them into strips and quickly tied up the three Chinamen. Now they looked like half-wrapped mummies. Graves smiled as he reviewed his handiwork.
“It’s easy,” he said, “especially if you tie them to a chair. The position itself prevents them from struggling. And if they do, they fall over and are rendered completely helpless.”
“Very interesting,” Laski said, “but I think one of us should go out and watch for the new arrival. Just in case he decides to bring along some friends.”
“He’s coming alone,” the Chinaman said.
Laski was holding his Luger like it was something that disgusted him.
“I think Mr. Graves should go.”
“Why not you, Laski?” Graves asked. “I went last time.”
“But I understand Cantonese and someone who understands Cantonese should stay here. The honor of watching the street is yours, Graves, my friend.”
“I can watch from the window,” Graves said.
He positioned himself where he could see the street without being seen from outside. Without taking his eyes off the street, he said:
“I’m interested in hearing the conversation here.”
“Fine,” said Laski. “Interrogate them, Filiberto.”
Now that stinking rat’s tail is starting to show. I sure as hell hope my two colleagues don’t kick up a fuss about the money. Maybe they didn’t even notice the number the Chinaman dialed. 3-5-9-9-0-8. That’s where the dough must be, the ten thousand fifty-dollar bills. Fucking bills!
The Chinaman said:
“You aren’t with the Mexican police.”
“What job was Roque Villegas doing?”
The Chinaman was quiet.
“Look, Chink, no matter what, you’re going to talk. You might as well make it easy on yourself.”
“We’re going to give you money.”
“The money that came from Hong Kong?”
“Why do you care where it came from? It’s good money.”
“Did it come from Hong Kong?”
“Yes.”
“Why did they send it to you?”
“For business.”
“With that amount of money, you could open five hundred restaurants. Why did they send it?”
“Are you going to take the money Mr. Feng is bringing?”