Read Online Neon Dragon by John Dobbyn - Free Book Online

doesn’t have family or friends who are being victimized.”
    Questions were running wild in my mind, but there was one I had to get in before that door opened. I whispered this one.
    â€œWhat in the world did you say to that ape on the stairs?”
    â€œI used the two words they fear more than death.”
    â€œWhich are?” He was dragging it out. I didn’t blame him.
    â€œImmigration Service.”
    â€œThe hell you did! You told him you’re an immigration officer?”
    â€œNo. I told him you are.”
    I took a deep breath while I counted the number of years following disbarment I could get for impersonating a federal officer. Then I considered what could happen if any of these bozos compared notes with the crowd at the Ming Tree restaurant where I was known as Bradley’s defense lawyer. I figured disbarment and jail time would be the good news.
    â€œOne question. If this place is populated with illegal aliens, how come they let us in?”
    â€œI told them you’re a good INS agent.”
    â€œMeaning?”
    The knob turned on the door as Harry whispered the last few words.
    â€œMeaning I told them you’re on the take. They may not love you, but they sure as hell want to please you.”
    The ramifications of that were beyond computing. I had about two full seconds to dwell on it before my senses were sent into overload.
    There’s striking. There’s astoundingly beautiful. And then somewhere beyond that there’s Mei-Li. The woman that came through that door carried poise, radiance, and charm to a level I’d never experienced off of a movie screen.
    You could say it was the cascade of midnight hair flowing to the waist of a lithe body that moved with an almost choreographed grace. Or it could have been the exquisite facial features that expressed elegance without intimidating the male ego. It could even have been the packaging of form-fitting turquoise silk from alabaster neck to floor.
    Whatever it was, it was stunning, in the literal sense of that word—until I realized that it was empty. It was a picture carefully assembled for one purpose. She was a prostitute. The whole fragile image was created to carry off a relationship no deeper than a onesided sex drive. I couldn’t help thinking that somewhere beneath that perfection there must be a human being as carefully hidden as any blemish that lay beneath the makeup. If she was in there, she was the one I had to reach to keep my end of the fortune-cookie bargain with Red Shoes.
    She closed the door and bowed, respectfully, from the waist. The smile she carried across the room was beautiful, but prerecorded. I don’t suppose that mattered to most of the men she found waiting in that room.
    If she was surprised to find my round eyes meeting her almond disks, there was no clue in her features. I met her halfway across the room. The problem was an opening move. There was no way to tell whose headset or video monitor was playing the Mei-Li and Michael Show, so a little misdirection seemed in order.
    I took her hand while we locked smiles. The bed area consumed the third of the room to the left, and the “getting acquainted” area took up most of the rest. There was a dark corner of dead space off to my right. It seemed the least likely to spawn any action that would be worth recording, and probably the least likely to be the focus of any hidden camera.
    I led her slowly to what I hoped would be off-camera. She followed in step. I think as long as I played the John, she’d have dutifully followed me to Taiwan. The question was how to reach the girl inside who made her own choices. I decided,
When in doubt, fly direct.
    I kept my voice so low that it could only have been picked up if she were wearing a microphone.
    â€œMei-Li, do you read Chinese?”
    Her voice was higher than I expected.
    â€œOf course.”
    I handed her the note that Red Shoes had delivered with the fortune