Danner—takes no prisoners. That is, if there was any lead up to this, any planning, any indication it was coming, he’ll have left crumbs for us to follow. I think Danny’s laptop is our most valuable player.”
“We must work together, Mr. Knox.”
“Agreed.”
“So, Lu’s accounts are first. I have my instructions.”
“And I have this timer running down in my head. All things being equal, I’d like to find Danny alive.”
“We must not ignore The Berthold Group’s Chinese competitors. There is bad blood. These companies would gain a great deal from either stopping the incentives or intercepting the list of recipients. A great deal, indeed. Reason enough to kidnap and torture. Mr. Marquardt mentioned Yang Construction. Yang and The Berthold Group have a colorful past. Much competition. I am unclear how to approach this. But perhaps something will present itself.”
“Yeah. Well…I’m still taking Danny and his research.” He paused. “You were given an iPhone?”
“Yes. Secure communications.”
“We can text.”
“Most certainly. As well as voice.”
Despite her two years in California, there were times she still sounded like a language lesson CD.
“The next time we meet, I’ll bring my financials,” he said. “As cover.”
“This is acceptable,” she said in Shanghainese.
“The first forty-eight hours are critical in a kidnapping. No need to tell you that.”
“No.”
He glanced at his TAG Heuer knock-off out of habit. “We’re well past that already. Sarge…Dulwich to you…is convinced Danny’s presence is a game changer.”
“Yes.”
“That they’ll kill him, maybe both of them, because he’s American.”
“Not if we kill them first,” she said.
He hesitated. It didn’t sound right coming from her mouth.
“Agreed,” he said.
“And as to logistics. How we move, when we move. I will handle.”
He opened his mouth to challenge that when she said:
“This is my city, Mr. Knox. Do not forget it.”
6
7:00 P.M.
SHANGHAI
Allan Marquardt waited behind his desk for the People’s Armed Police officer to say something. Instead, the man seemed to be trying to make a point by looking out at the Xuan Tower as the work there continued through the night, illuminated by massive floodlights. The scaffolding crawled with ants—though Marquardt knew it was far fewer ants than the day before, a troubling development.
This meeting had been arranged abruptly, interrupting Marquardt’s Saturday evening at the Shanghai Grand Theater. No great loss. He still had calls to place to headquarters in Boston and an engineering firm in San Francisco. It promised to be a long night.
But one did not turn down a meeting requested by the People’s Armed Police. He thought of them as the Gestapo of China. Marquardt was well familiar with the term “Iron Hand,” and now, looking at this man, understood it more fully. Inspector Shen Deshi was bigger than most Chinese by half, his face unreadable, eyes distant, like a man incapable of feeling. Marquardt had no intention of putting The Berthold Group on his bad side; he had trouble enough.
Having been coached by Brian Primer over the phone on his way here, Marquardt braced himself for mention of the kidnapping, to show no reaction, to deny it, reminded the police wanted such a situation no more than The Berthold Group. If not provoked, the officer would more than likely skirt the issue, giving Marquardt openings but not pressing him to take them. Failure to address the crime would be held against him at a later date, but appreciated in the near term. The complexities of the interwoven social and professional etiquette involving the Chinese required him to rethink his replies. The vaguer, the better.
“Any problems lately?” asked the inspector.
There it was, teed up. Marquardt needed to show respect while demonstrating his understanding of proper etiquette. Speaking adequate, though American-accented, Mandarin, he said, “Shi
“We must work together, Mr. Knox.”
“Agreed.”
“So, Lu’s accounts are first. I have my instructions.”
“And I have this timer running down in my head. All things being equal, I’d like to find Danny alive.”
“We must not ignore The Berthold Group’s Chinese competitors. There is bad blood. These companies would gain a great deal from either stopping the incentives or intercepting the list of recipients. A great deal, indeed. Reason enough to kidnap and torture. Mr. Marquardt mentioned Yang Construction. Yang and The Berthold Group have a colorful past. Much competition. I am unclear how to approach this. But perhaps something will present itself.”
“Yeah. Well…I’m still taking Danny and his research.” He paused. “You were given an iPhone?”
“Yes. Secure communications.”
“We can text.”
“Most certainly. As well as voice.”
Despite her two years in California, there were times she still sounded like a language lesson CD.
“The next time we meet, I’ll bring my financials,” he said. “As cover.”
“This is acceptable,” she said in Shanghainese.
“The first forty-eight hours are critical in a kidnapping. No need to tell you that.”
“No.”
He glanced at his TAG Heuer knock-off out of habit. “We’re well past that already. Sarge…Dulwich to you…is convinced Danny’s presence is a game changer.”
“Yes.”
“That they’ll kill him, maybe both of them, because he’s American.”
“Not if we kill them first,” she said.
He hesitated. It didn’t sound right coming from her mouth.
“Agreed,” he said.
“And as to logistics. How we move, when we move. I will handle.”
He opened his mouth to challenge that when she said:
“This is my city, Mr. Knox. Do not forget it.”
6
7:00 P.M.
SHANGHAI
Allan Marquardt waited behind his desk for the People’s Armed Police officer to say something. Instead, the man seemed to be trying to make a point by looking out at the Xuan Tower as the work there continued through the night, illuminated by massive floodlights. The scaffolding crawled with ants—though Marquardt knew it was far fewer ants than the day before, a troubling development.
This meeting had been arranged abruptly, interrupting Marquardt’s Saturday evening at the Shanghai Grand Theater. No great loss. He still had calls to place to headquarters in Boston and an engineering firm in San Francisco. It promised to be a long night.
But one did not turn down a meeting requested by the People’s Armed Police. He thought of them as the Gestapo of China. Marquardt was well familiar with the term “Iron Hand,” and now, looking at this man, understood it more fully. Inspector Shen Deshi was bigger than most Chinese by half, his face unreadable, eyes distant, like a man incapable of feeling. Marquardt had no intention of putting The Berthold Group on his bad side; he had trouble enough.
Having been coached by Brian Primer over the phone on his way here, Marquardt braced himself for mention of the kidnapping, to show no reaction, to deny it, reminded the police wanted such a situation no more than The Berthold Group. If not provoked, the officer would more than likely skirt the issue, giving Marquardt openings but not pressing him to take them. Failure to address the crime would be held against him at a later date, but appreciated in the near term. The complexities of the interwoven social and professional etiquette involving the Chinese required him to rethink his replies. The vaguer, the better.
“Any problems lately?” asked the inspector.
There it was, teed up. Marquardt needed to show respect while demonstrating his understanding of proper etiquette. Speaking adequate, though American-accented, Mandarin, he said, “Shi
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