"We should each get one and carry it."
"Do you understand?" Chang repeated firmly.
"Yes."
Chang touched his son's arm. "Thank you, son. It was a brave thing to do."
You do have balls . . . .
"Yeye would be proud of you," his father added.
William nearly said, Yeye would still be alive if it weren't for you. But he remained silent. They arrived at their front door. Chang and William looked around. No one had followed them from the coffee shop. They pushed quickly inside.
As Chang hid the gun on the top shelf of the closet--where only he and William could reach it--the boy dropped onto the couch next to his brother and the baby girl. He picked up a magazine and thumbed through it.
But he paid little attention to the articles. He was thinking about what Chen had asked him. Should he meet with the other members of the triad tomorrow night?
He didn't think he would. But he wasn't sure. It was never a bad idea, he'd learned, to keep your options open.
Chapter Forty-two
John Sung had changed clothes. He was wearing a turtleneck sweater--which seemed odd in the heat, though it made him look pretty stylish--and new workout pants. He was flushed and he seemed distracted, out of breath.
"Are you all right?" Amelia Sachs asked.
"Yoga," he explained. "I was doing my exercises. Tea?"
"I can't stay long." Eddie Deng had gone back to the Fifth Precinct but Alan Coe was waiting for her downstairs in the crime scene bus.
He held up a bag. "Here's what I wanted to give you. The fertility herbs I told you about last night."
She took the bag absently. "Thank you, John."
"What's wrong?" he asked, scanning her troubled face. He motioned her inside and they sat on the couch.
"That police officer from China, the man who helped us? He was found dead about an hour ago."
Sung closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. "Was it an accident? Or did the Ghost get to him?"
"The Ghost."
"Oh, no, I'm sorry."
"I am too." She said this brusquely, dismissing the emotion in the best spirit of Lincoln Rhyme. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a plastic bag of the plant material she'd found at the scene. "We found this where he was murdered."
"Where?" he asked.
"In Chinatown. Not far away. We think it's some herbs or spices that the Ghost bought. Rhyme was hoping if we can figure out what it is we might find the store where he bought it. Maybe one of the clerks might know where the Ghost lives."
He nodded. "Let me see it." Sung opened the bag then shook some out onto the counter. He bent down, inhaled the aroma and examined the substance. She thought Lincoln Rhyme would use a gas chromatograph and mass spectrometer to do exactly the same thing, separating a mixture into its component parts and identifying them.
Finally he said, "I smell astragalus, ginger, poria, maybe some ginseng and alisma." He shook his head. "I know you'd like me to tell you it's sold in only one or two stores. But I'm afraid you can buy it at any herbalist, drugstore or grocery in China. I would suppose it's the same here."
Discouraged, she thought of something else. "What do they do?" Maybe the Ghost was suffering from some sickness or injury and they could trace him through other doctors as they'd done with Wu Qichen's wife.
"It's more of an over-the-counter tonic than a medicine. It improves resistance, tonifies your qi. Many people use it to heighten the sexual experience. Supposedly it helps men stay erect longer. It's not meant to treat a specific illness."
So much for that theory, Sachs thought glumly.