The Interior (Red Princess 2)

“But actually he wanted you back in the fold, where he could control you in case you decided to pursue Keith’s death while in the U.S. Attorney’s Office.”

“I think so.”

“So, do you think that the others in the firm know what Miles is up to?”

“I can’t imagine it. They’re good people.”

“Then let me put it this way: How much money will the firm make from the deal?”

“About a million, but a lot of that goes toward overhead…”

“I know it’s not much in a law firm,” she agreed, dismissing the idea. Then, “I want to know if Miles is the only one behind Keith’s murder or if they’re all in on it.”

David looked back down at the chart, then, keeping his voice light, said, “I don’t see that as an alternative here.” He peered over at Hulan and asked, “You’re not serious?” When she didn’t respond, he said, “I worked at the firm for years. You and I met there, for Christ’s sake. Was there anything that ever made you think that they were engaged in criminal activities?”

Hulan shrugged. “Times change. Maybe they got greedy.”

“But murder! Come on! I don’t think Phil or Ralph or Marjorie would go out and kill one of their own partners.”

“What about Miles?”

“He’s an asshole. But a murderer? The man lives in Brentwood. He’s got a couple of kids. He’s well respected.” Seeing Hulan’s smirk, David stopped. He had to smile himself. “All right, so that matches the description of another Brentwood resident, but really! Miles is purely whitecollar. I don’t see him getting blood on his hands.”

“And the other stuff?” she asked, pointing at the card that corresponded to the filing of the paperwork to the FTC. “Could the others be involved in the fraud?”

When David shook his head no, Hulan picked up that card, crossed out Phillips, MacKenzie & Stout, and wrote in its place David, Miles, and Keith.

“That ma

kes me feel so much better!” David said.

A strand of Hulan’s hair came loose and fell across her cheek. David smoothed it behind her ear.

“You haven’t told me what you found out,” he said.

She quickly summarized her morning’s activities and showed him the travel records. At the end she said, “So like you I’m looking at contradictions. Sun had contact with Americans and yet wasn’t punished for that during the Cultural Revolution. Or I should say that his punishment was mild. Kneeling in glass, a few struggle meetings, are nothing. I would have expected ten years of reform through labor.”

“Maybe he was lucky…”

“His file also says that he hasn’t accepted bribes, but we have circumstantial evidence that he has, which is why his name’s on the chart,” she said, pointing at the card. “But does someone’s essential nature change?”

“Everyone says that Sun is good. His power is based on the premise that he’s honest.”

“Power may be the key word. Power corrupts, and my government is by definition corrupt,” Hulan admitted.

“You said it, not me. But, yes, China does have a little problem now and then with corruption.”

“Is that what happened to Miles?” Hulan asked.

“Power, money, for him I think they’re synonymous.”

“And Henry Knight and Randall Craig?”

“My country was built by corporate and industrial bandits. We glorify people who’ve pulled themselves up by their boot straps by any means possible.”

They sat silent for a few minutes, then Hulan asked, “What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to go for a run, take a shower, put on a suit, and go to the banquet.”