prizes for guessing China’s where they’re headed.” Will said, trading the sling for a T-shirt from Elsa’s suitcase. “Bradley’s got a meeting with the board in Hong Kong tomorrow. I’m gonna ride shotgun to see if there’s anything suspicious going down at Zhang HQ.”
Shane checked his own watch and turned to Luca. “You feel like chasing the little red dot?”
“The company’s headquarters are in Hong Kong,” Bradley offered, “but the mines themselves are in Shandong, south of Beijing.”
“If you two cover Hong Kong, we’ll head for Beijing,” Luca said.
Jake turned to Bradley. “Any other leads you can think of? Anyone else with a major interest in the business? Partners, suppliers, anyone with a stake in the company’s dealings?”
Bradley shook his head. “The only other person I can think of is Richard. Richard Conrad.”
“Conrad Constructions,” Jake nodded. “Sen said he was in Dubai, right?”
“I’m coming with you,” Sam piped up, jumping to his feet.
“You’re staying right here. Elsa needs you. And he needs you.” Jake glanced once more at the window to the intensive care unit. He put a hand on the kid’s shoulder and said, “Sammy, you got the most important job of all. Make sure nothing happens to Eden.”
Elsa took Sam’s hand then, patted it firmly, and assured Jake and the others, “We’ll keep him strong. Don’t worry. Just find the Professor. Bring him home safely.”
One by one the boys hugged Elsa and Sam and raced for the elevator.
Before he left, Jake stopped at the window one last time. “Don’t you die on me,” he said softly. “We’ll be back. I’ll bring everyone back, I promise. Just don’t you die.”
Then, without looking back, he raced from the hospital.
VI
Beijing, China
BEIJING BETTY’S WAS A RAMSHACKLE, FOUR-STORY deathtrap. It was also the raucous, polluted heart of the city’s slum district, thrashing and thumping to the beat of neo-Asian electro-pop strip music, illegal booze, experimental drugs, and lawless gay lust. There were no rules at Betty’s apart from every man for himself when the police came, which was often. Yet Betty had enough friends and incriminating photos to keep the place open and her many customers happy—from the highest-ranking officials to the lowest dregs of modern China. Everyone here had an addiction—opium, crack, sex, or simply a need to watch, and this was the place to set your demons free.
Demons like the small, skeletal Chinese man with the tattered black patch over his left eye, the man known only as Doctor Cyclops. He was not a visitor to Betty’s. He was a resident who lived on the third floor above the nightclub, calling this place of debauchery home. His entire world. He only left the building to buy noodles, cigarettes, and alcohol from the cluttered little corner store down the street. Sometimes he’d venture into the private back room known as the Den to score some opium from Betty, but that depended on who she was entertaining at the time. Sometimes the cigarettes and the gin just had to do.
Occasionally Doctor Cyclops parted with a little cash to feel up some young man’s crotch. More often than not, though, he simply enjoyed watching the show, intently observing the men for sale, studying the contours of their bodies, their flesh, fantasizing about what their muscles looked like under the skin. He wished the striptease would keep going, even after the clothes were gone. He wished they could peel away the flesh on their bodies. Yes, the thought of it intoxicated him. Desperately he wanted to see what they looked like on the inside. He wanted to open their chests and see their hearts pounding. If he could see their hearts beat, then surely it meant they loved him.
This was his nightly ritual.
Tonight, however, the pattern would be broken. Doctor Cyclops had been contracted for a job.
“This way,” he called over the dance music that thundered through the walls.
“I
Shane checked his own watch and turned to Luca. “You feel like chasing the little red dot?”
“The company’s headquarters are in Hong Kong,” Bradley offered, “but the mines themselves are in Shandong, south of Beijing.”
“If you two cover Hong Kong, we’ll head for Beijing,” Luca said.
Jake turned to Bradley. “Any other leads you can think of? Anyone else with a major interest in the business? Partners, suppliers, anyone with a stake in the company’s dealings?”
Bradley shook his head. “The only other person I can think of is Richard. Richard Conrad.”
“Conrad Constructions,” Jake nodded. “Sen said he was in Dubai, right?”
“I’m coming with you,” Sam piped up, jumping to his feet.
“You’re staying right here. Elsa needs you. And he needs you.” Jake glanced once more at the window to the intensive care unit. He put a hand on the kid’s shoulder and said, “Sammy, you got the most important job of all. Make sure nothing happens to Eden.”
Elsa took Sam’s hand then, patted it firmly, and assured Jake and the others, “We’ll keep him strong. Don’t worry. Just find the Professor. Bring him home safely.”
One by one the boys hugged Elsa and Sam and raced for the elevator.
Before he left, Jake stopped at the window one last time. “Don’t you die on me,” he said softly. “We’ll be back. I’ll bring everyone back, I promise. Just don’t you die.”
Then, without looking back, he raced from the hospital.
VI
Beijing, China
BEIJING BETTY’S WAS A RAMSHACKLE, FOUR-STORY deathtrap. It was also the raucous, polluted heart of the city’s slum district, thrashing and thumping to the beat of neo-Asian electro-pop strip music, illegal booze, experimental drugs, and lawless gay lust. There were no rules at Betty’s apart from every man for himself when the police came, which was often. Yet Betty had enough friends and incriminating photos to keep the place open and her many customers happy—from the highest-ranking officials to the lowest dregs of modern China. Everyone here had an addiction—opium, crack, sex, or simply a need to watch, and this was the place to set your demons free.
Demons like the small, skeletal Chinese man with the tattered black patch over his left eye, the man known only as Doctor Cyclops. He was not a visitor to Betty’s. He was a resident who lived on the third floor above the nightclub, calling this place of debauchery home. His entire world. He only left the building to buy noodles, cigarettes, and alcohol from the cluttered little corner store down the street. Sometimes he’d venture into the private back room known as the Den to score some opium from Betty, but that depended on who she was entertaining at the time. Sometimes the cigarettes and the gin just had to do.
Occasionally Doctor Cyclops parted with a little cash to feel up some young man’s crotch. More often than not, though, he simply enjoyed watching the show, intently observing the men for sale, studying the contours of their bodies, their flesh, fantasizing about what their muscles looked like under the skin. He wished the striptease would keep going, even after the clothes were gone. He wished they could peel away the flesh on their bodies. Yes, the thought of it intoxicated him. Desperately he wanted to see what they looked like on the inside. He wanted to open their chests and see their hearts pounding. If he could see their hearts beat, then surely it meant they loved him.
This was his nightly ritual.
Tonight, however, the pattern would be broken. Doctor Cyclops had been contracted for a job.
“This way,” he called over the dance music that thundered through the walls.
“I
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