The Risk Agent (44 page)

Dulwich had been discharged from the hospital and was supposed to be under private care at his residence. He showed up at the meeting ten minutes behind the others.

“Events are happening quickly over there,” Primer said, wearing a gorgeous silk suit and a dark tan from a golf outing in Vietnam. They were seated in the same area where Grace had first received her instructions.

He tossed a newspaper to Knox. Below the fold was an article about the arrest of Chairman Zhimin on charges of bribery and corruption.

Grace and Knox finally met eyes and she gave him an I-told-you-so look.

“Allan Marquardt got out of the country,” Primer said, “but faces charges. The Berthold Group has been caught with their pants down. It
won’t go well for them. But the Chinese wasted no time. Yang Construction appears first in line to be awarded the completion of Xuan Tower. If you believe the blogs. That could have—should have—taken months. It happened in one day.”

“So, we’re done?” Knox said.

Dulwich said, “Not hardly.”

“You two did outstanding work,” Primer said.

“Thank you,” Grace said.

“We intend to compensate you well. In your case, Mr. Knox, that includes the use of the company jet to get to wherever you need to go next.”

“I’d like to speak with Danny,” he said.

“Mr. Danner is stateside with his family.”

“No, he’s not. He’s checked in at the Four Seasons in a suite on sixteen with an elevator lockout. I could go to the trouble of breaking in, but your blessing would make things easier.”

Primer shrugged. “This is a…fluid business, John. May I call you John?”

Knox shrugged. Dulwich’s eyes bore into Knox. He sensed where Primer was going but Knox had no desire to field an offer. The only thing holding him in the chair was Grace, and after a moment he thought that foolish as well. What was he waiting for? Done was done.

“So?” Knox said. “I’m free to go?”

Grace looked over. She smiled warmly, and he back at her.

“See you,” he said to her, standing.

“Talk to my secretary about scheduling the jet,” Primer said, proudly offering his toy again. “Ninety minutes is all the lead time they need.” He added, “She has your check.”

“Thank you,” Grace said, her hand extended to Knox. “For everything.”

They shook hands. It felt impossibly formal after what they’d been through. Impossibly Chinese.

Primer said, “The point is…you two, there are opportunities like this that arise.”

“All the time,” Dulwich added.

Knox let go of her hand and headed for the door. “Tommy awaits.”

“Speaking of your brother,” she called out to him, “I finally got a look at your company books, John.”

Recalling the failed payment to Amy Xue, he stopped.

“You are going to need my help,” Grace said.

“Is that right?”

“That is right,” she said.

“All right then.”

He left the room, not looking back. Stopped at the secretary’s desk and couldn’t help but sneak a peek inside the envelope. The check was written for an eye-popping amount. He folded the envelope and slipped it into the rear pocket of his jeans.

“I’d like to book that plane, please.”

1:00 P.M.

FOUR SEASONS HOTEL

HONG KONG

Knox rapped lightly on the hotel room door. Waited. Tried again. At last the jamb and lock made a noise and the door cracked, then opened more fully. Knox went in. The two men embraced, Danner holding his bandaged hand away from contact.

“Primer told me you’d found me.”

“I nearly bought into your having headed home,” Knox said.

The room was a business suite: a king bedroom with a couple chairs around a larger-than-usual table. Fresh flowers in a glass vase.

“I wish,” Danner said. “I entered without a passport. The Chinese wanted to lock me up. We agreed on here as my purgatory. The usual red tape trying to leave. It’ll sort out tomorrow or the next day. Consulate staff’s on it.”

“Peggy?”

“Out of her mind about this whole thing. And expecting any day.”

“Yeah, I heard. You know if it’s a boy or girl?”

“No. But I know what we’re going to call it, either way.”

“You can’t call a girl John; it’ll scar her for her life.”

“Ha ha. Grace is a nice name.”

“It is.”

“She’s a nice lady.”

“She is.”

“Tough.”

“No doubt,” Knox said.

Danner offered him a beer from the minibar. They both drank.

“So…why’d you do it?” Danner asked.

“You’d have done it for me.”

“No, I wouldn’t have,” Danner said, stone-faced.

“Selfish reasons,” Knox said.

“The money?”

“I could lie. It was definitely in the mix.”

“Tommy. The money, I mean.”

“Tough sledding right now. His medical costs are through the roof. Selling nose flutes isn’t exactly covering it.”

“How is he?”

“Stable.”

“Good.”

“Yes.”

“And you? How are you dealing with it?”

Knox considered this carefully. “I try to make enough income to cover my guilt over being away.”

“One doesn’t work without the other,” Danner said.

“Yeah…right,” Knox said.

“I wouldn’t beat myself up over it.”

“Yeah, you would.”

“Yeah,” Danner said, “I probably would.”

“You’re the next in line. Godfather. Keeper. Caregiver. Whatever. That’s why,” he said, answering the earlier question.

“I hope you’re kidding,” Danner said.

Knox answered by leveling a look across the table.

“You can’t run an engine on guilt, Fort.” It was a nickname that Knox
hadn’t heard in years. It took him back to a different life. “You’ve got to get beyond that shit. It’ll destroy you.” He added, “You don’t owe me anything simply because I’m willing to help out if you go MIA.”

Knox said nothing.

“I will figure out a way to pay for Tommy’s stuff.”

“No,” Knox said. “You won’t. Not unless you plan on robbing banks.”

“I’d be good at it.”

“You probably would be.”

“Bank on it.” Danner grinned. He noticed Knox staring at his bandage. “This is not your fault. Don’t go there.”

“The initials in the chair,” Knox said. “We thought it was forty-four. We lost a lot of time reading that wrong.”

“I’m telling you: don’t go there.”

“The GPS paid off.”

“My bike?”

Knox nodded.

“You found my bike?”

“Grace’s idea.”

“She’s a keeper.”

“No doubt.”

“Small price to pay,” Danner said. “At least I won’t be flipping anyone off.”

“You’re going to joke about it?”

“Any other ideas?”

Knox coughed.

“I owe you, man.”

“Bullshit.”

“Big time.”

“Not true.”

“You say jump,” Danner said, “I’ll ask how high.”

“No one’s going to do any jumping.”

“I’m staying with Berthold. Just so you know. Peggy will give me shit, but I love the life, and the money’s incredible.”

“The baby will change your mind,” Knox said.

“The baby will change everything,” Danner said. “They always do.”

Knox lifted the beer can. “Here’s to its health.”

They were both thinking of Tommy.

The cans clunked dully.

“I wouldn’t have done the same,” Danner confessed. “But I will now.”

“Understood,” Knox said. “Let’s hope I never need it.”

“Yeah, let’s hope.”

3:03 P.M.

HONG KONG

The Signature terminal at Chek Lap Kok airport was obscenely plush and comfortable. Gorgeous flight attendants offered Knox drinks and finger food while CNN International played on a flat screen. He’d asked to file a flight plan back to Cambodia. He had business there to tidy up. But the thought of it troubled him. The lure of selling bronze statuettes wasn’t exactly calling out to him.

The skyline was. The distant shimmer of a few million people competing for the same few square miles of land, the same few tons of rice and fish and tea. There was something narcissistic and primitive about the drive for survival that appealed to him. More to the point, he wasn’t thrilled to be alone. He barely recognized himself.

His phone rang, and he hoped it would be her, but he recognized his brother’s voice immediately.

“Johnny? She…I screwed up.”

“Tommy. Easy!”

“Evelyn. That bitch!”

Their accountant, Evelyn Ritter.

“Tommy?”

“She jacked all the accounts.”

“Tommy? Chill! Breathe! Start from the…whaddaya mean all the accounts?”

“She didn’t show up this morning. I thought she was sick. What the fuck do I know?”

“She doesn’t have access to all the accounts,” Knox said, feeling relief. His brother could be mistaken about so much. “Only the checking, and there’s never much in it. You’re saying she drained the checking? Have you called the police? Who the hell do you call? FBI?” he was thinking aloud.

The resulting silence grew intense. Knox thought briefly about the Nike duffel bag and closed his eyes, deciding he would never think about it again.

“Tommy?”

“She said she had to move a bunch of stuff around. Said you usually did that but that you weren’t around.”

“You did not give her those passwords.” He made it a statement. The company did their banking online.

“It can’t just vanish, right? I mean, that kind of thing…there’s ways to follow it, right? That’s a shitload of money we’re talking about, bro.”

“You gave her the passwords.”

“She said it had to be done, that you usually did it. I screwed up, didn’t I? I screwed it all up! Don’t get mad at me, Johnny. Please don’t get mad at me!”

Knox held the phone away from his ringing ear and shut his eyes. Took several deep breaths.

“You are going to need my help.”

Knox returned the phone to his ear. “I’m not mad at you, Tommy. Okay? It’s going to be okay.”

“We’re broke, man. Cleaned out. It’s not going to be okay. We, like, owe a shitload to a lot of people. But we can find it, right? Get it back? There’re people who do that, right?”

Knox felt the check in his back pocket. It had seemed like so much money a few hours ago. The pilot came through the door looking for him.

“Ready when you are, sir.”

“Hang on, Tommy.” Knox cupped the phone. He asked the pilot,
“Mr. Primer said anywhere…anywhere I wanted to go. Does that offer still hold?”

“You want to file another flight plan?”

“Can that plane reach the U.S.?”

“With a refuel in Hawaii, yes, sir.”

Knox returned to the phone. Tommy was running at the mouth, working himself into a frenzy. Stumbling over apology after apology. He sounded about ready to cry. Knox didn’t want him going down this road. He worked for five minutes to talk him down.

Tommy said, “The Pearl Lady sent an e-mail.”

“Amy?”

“She said all business with us is over. She sounded really pissed off at you.”

“We’ll see.”

“Said bad things came out of her friendship with you. What does that mean?”

“It’s been a busy week here, Tommy. I’ll sort it out.” It’s what I do, he thought.

“I like the Pearl Lady.”

“So do I.”

A silence formed between them. Then Tommy spoke.

“There’re people who do that,” he said, repeating it like a mantra. “…people who do that.”

“It’s okay, Tommy. We’ll find the money.” But if they didn’t? Tommy’s monthly health care costs alone would sink them. “There are people who do that.” To bring his brother back, one had to snap the tape loops in the kid’s head. He repeated what he’d just said. Tommy’s breathing calmed.

“I know someone,” Knox said. “She does this kind of thing.”

“Seriously?” Knox heard a ray of hope in his brother’s voice. “Do I know her?”

“No. But you’ll like her,” Knox said.

EPILOGUE

On a cold November day, wet with rain and sharp with wind, Steve Kozlowski rose from the couch and his DVR’ed Eagles game to answer a knock on the front door. The events of a month before were all but forgotten, swept aside by more urgent matters—an impending state visit by the vice president, chief among them.

Liz came out from the kitchen, not realizing her husband could be broken from the spell of football. She was driven in equal parts by a sense of responsibility, and a curiosity what neighbor might be calling on them. If the knock was an outside visitor, the compound’s gate guards would have notified them by telephone.

As she saw her husband approach the door, she stopped. But she didn’t turn back. She wanted to see who this was, anticipating that her husband would want nothing to do with any of their neighbors.

Kozlowski opened the door and just stood there.

“Sweetheart?” Liz called out. “Who is it?”

Her husband did not move, silhouetted by the pale gray air and the pale gray security wall in the distance that surrounded the compound.

She tried for a second time. “Steve?”

“A friend,” he answered.

Determined to see whatever was going on, she approached.

“Get a scarf,” he said.

“It’s raining!” she complained.

“That’s why you’ll need a scarf,” he said, still not turning toward her. “And grab a ball cap for me.”

“I’m not going out there.”

“Yes. We both are. We’re going to get wet, and we’re going to enjoy it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Her patience with him was sapped.

Kozlowski stepped through the door and out into the drizzle, and as he did, Liz could finally see beyond him to the object in the front yard. It was a spit-shined, black motorcycle and sidecar, an antique, with polished chrome and new leather. Steve circled, admiring it from every angle.

She gathered the scarf and ball cap. Called upstairs to Tucker that she and Daddy were going out for a few minutes and would be right back. She walked out into the rain, envious of the bike for the smile it brought to her husband’s face.

She closed the door behind her.

The End