Flower Net (Red Princess 1)

“Why?”

“You thought it would be a vacation, but I knew I’d be acting as a nurse. I saw no reason for you to come here.”

“I understood that. Then we agreed you’d be gone for a week or two.”

“That’s right.”

“But that’s not how it turned out,” he said calmly. He wanted the truth from her, but he was afraid of scaring her into silence. Hulan had always been secretive; he had always questioned her, trying to break through her reserve, to get her to finally reveal herself to him.

“My mother was sicker than I thought.”

“You never called.” He continued to press her.

“I wrote. I told you.”

“That’s true. After a month, I got that letter saying you loved me and that your family needed you. How was I to understand from those few words that you weren’t coming back?” He hesitated, recalling the arguments he’d had over the years with Jean about his short-comings. He had come to believe that Hulan had left him for the same reasons. Finally he said, “For years I thought about why you left me. I was so ambitious. I’d made partner and was working eighteen-hour days, out of town on cases for weeks at a time. You used to say I wasn’t being true to my goals. Now I can see my failings, but back then I thought I was a walking advertisement for moral rectitude.”

“It had nothing to do with that. My mother was sick. That’s all.”

As the memories came back, he found he wasn’t ready to listen to her. “I started to believe that you weren’t in China at all. Sure, you’d left on that pretense, but were you really here? After all,

you’d rarely talked about your family. You never talked about Beijing. Do you remember the trip we took to Greece?”

He saw her nod and tried to read the thoughts behind her eyes.

“Do you remember that day at the Parthenon?” he asked. “I was reading from the guidebook about Athena and how she had sprung full-grown from the head of Zeus. I said you were like that. You didn’t speak to me for the rest of the day. That’s what it was like whenever I made a reference to your past or your family. You didn’t like to talk about them or China. So when you said you’d gone back to your family, I didn’t believe it. I thought you’d simply run off with another man.”

She stopped, impulsively grabbed his hand, then just as quickly dropped it. “How could you think that?”

“Because I kept trying to blame someone other than myself, because I was tormenting myself with my belief that I’d done something to drive you away. I held myself responsible. All those times I had tried to talk to you about your past…‘Tell me about your father,’ I’d say. You’d answer, ‘He’s in a labor camp.’ I’d say, ‘Tell me about your mother.’ You’d always accuse me of interrogating you. ‘I’m not on trial here, David. I’m not guilty of anything. Don’t treat me like a witness.’ And then you were gone. How many letters did I write to you? You never answered. That was wrong, Hulan.”

“I’m sorry. I regret that.”

“I thought, I’ll fly over there and I’ll bring her home. I don’t know how many times I applied for a visa. They always turned me down.”

“I wish you had come,” she said.

He started to reach for her when he heard Peter’s voice. “Inspector Liu! Inspector Liu!” David turned to see Peter hustling along the walkway in the company of three other men, one of whom held a walkie-talkie. “I was worried about you, Attorney Stark,” the investigator said as he neared them. “We have already had one murder here. We don’t want another. You and Inspector Liu should come along back to the car. I know you still want to see Guang Henglai’s apartment.”

Later, as the Saab sat in midafternoon traffic, David put his gloved hand over Hulan’s. She did not pull away.

When the door swung open to Guang Henglai’s apartment in the Capital Mansion, Hulan heard David’s swift intake of breath. She knew, without even stepping a foot inside, that with its $6,000-U.S.-a-month rental price, it would be vulgar in the extreme. She had already anticipated its excesses, and now as she stood in the doorway, waiting and observing as she always did at a scene, she watched as David moved quickly into the foyer with its glossy black marble floor and smoky glass walls, then disappeared into what she presumed was the living room.

What a shock all of this must be to him, she thought. She could bet that he hadn’t expected the elegance of her father’s office, the opulence of the China Land and Economics Corporation tower, or the extravagance of this apartment. But these things were nothing compared to the jolt of being thrown together again. She, at least, had prepared herself, but he clearly hadn’t known he’d be working with her. But her advance knowledge hadn’t stopped her from wanting to say she still loved him, because she did. At the park, she was ready to put her arms around him and press her lips to his. He seemed only too ready to pick up where they’d left off, but how could they? She knew there could never be any hope for them.

What David valued above all else was justice and truth. He left no room for hedging or extenuating circumstances. But just as his strong beliefs were what she loved most about him, they were also what she most feared, because there were so many things she couldn’t tell him. Her truth and his rigid sense of justice would destroy all that had been between them.

Hulan walked to the middle of the living room and slowly turned, taking in everything around her. Guang Henglai had chosen a place that was new, expensive, and cheaply built. Everything inside these walls conveyed extraordinarily bad taste. She was not being critical. This excessive display of wealth was expected of a Red Prince.

Hand-woven rugs of elaborate design were spread beneath her feet. Soft black suede upholstered the furniture. Flashy modern Chinese landscapes hung on the walls.

David stepped into the room. “Look what I found,” he said, holding up a set of bankbooks. “I think you’ll be surprised at where they’re located and how much cash he had stashed away.”

She doubted that but didn’t say so. Instead, she took the bankbooks from him and fanned them out. Bank of China. Hong Kong National Bank. Sanwa Bank. Sumitomo Bank. East West Bank. Cathay Bank. Chinese Overseas Bank. Citibank. Bank of America. Glendale Federal Savings and Loan.

“All of those banks have branches in the U.S.,” he said. “Several of them—East West, Cathay, Glendale Federal—are based in Los Angeles, and the Chinese Overseas Bank, as you know, is owned by the Guang family.”

Hulan opened one of the bankbooks. She flipped through the pages, noting deposits and withdrawals of $10,000 here, $20,000 there. She opened another. The same thing. She slipped the books into her bag. “We’ll need to take a closer look at these. Compare his deposits with his trips.”