Snakehead tct-4 Read online

  II

  There was nothing moving along Texas when Li got there. The grounds of the Annunciation Catholic Church lay brooding in silent darkness on the south side of Minute Maid Park. East on Texas, the lights of an occasional vehicle on the freeway raked across the flyover. On Crawford nothing stirred. No sound, no light, no movement. Houston was a city without a heart. No one lived at its centre. When the shops and offices closed for the day, and the last fan had left the stadium, it was a dead place. Empty. Even of muggers, for there was no one to mug.

  Still, Li felt conspicuous as he drifted quickly under bleaching street lights, wondering if hidden eyes were watching his approach. The core of him was stiff with tension, but he forced his body to relax so that he could move freely. He hurried past the metered parking slots below the towering south wall of the stadium, under the ornamental canopies over the windows of the official Astros shop, to the double glass doors that opened on to the wide sweep of stairs that led from club level up to the private suites. He pushed each in turn. The left door opened and he slipped inside.

  Light from the street fell in through tall windows on each level and lay in rectangles across the green-carpeted stairway. Li went up the steps two at a time to the suite level. On the landing he stopped and listened, straining to hear anything above the rasp of his own breath and the hammering of his heart. Three openings down, he saw a crack of light under the door to Soong’s suite. There was no sound. He looked along the dark, carpeted curve of the concourse and decided to make his approach from another angle. He slipped past Soong’s suite and fell into a long, loping jog through the food hall, past the Whistle Stop bar, which sold libations to the wealthy, past the panorama of windows that looked out on to the night-cloaked field. There was very little light out there. The sky had cleared, though it was studded with stars, for there was no moon. Through a swing door at the end, he found himself on the concrete staircase that Soong had brought them up the previous day. Arched windows on the landing threw light from the street across the stairs as he hurried down to ground level. Hanging signs pointed along the colonnaded walkway beneath the train to sections 100–104. Li plunged into its darkness and ran past the arched openings, beyond the Home Run Pump — a mock Conoco gas pump that lit up when the Astros struck gold — to the far concourse beneath giant billboards advertising Coca-Cola, Miller Lite, UPS. Behind floor-to-ceiling glass, the tables of Ruggles restaurant were pooled in darkness.

  Li stopped and looked back across the field, and saw the solitary light shining in Soong’s suite, like one gold tooth in a mouth of blackened stumps. Its light tumbled feebly across the seats below and lay in a faint slab on the grass. A light above the elevators at the far side of the concourse told him that they were still powered. He rode up to the next level and made his way beneath the giant scoreboard to the seating at the far side of the stadium. He jumped up and caught the rail dividing the suite level from the one below and swung himself upwards, hooking a leg over the top rail and pulling himself up behind it. He was on a level again with the light from Soong’s suite but still had the length of the stadium to traverse. He broke into a jog again, following the concrete behind the seats and then vaulting the dividing rails that split the east side into sections at regular intervals.

  Now just two suites away from the light spilling out into darkness, he stopped to catch his breath and listen again, his face shining with sweat. He caught the faint sound of a voice through glass, and very carefully approached the windows of Soong’s suite. Below he could see, in the palest of lights, the geometry of the baseball field, the pitcher’s mound like a moon orbiting the batter’s circle, the grass diamond delineated by red blaize that looked from here as black as tar. He listened hard. There was not even the faintest echo of bat on ball or of chanting fans. The stadium was only a handful of seasons old. If there were ghosts here, they would be the ghosts of trains, of porters and passengers, drivers and linemen. But there was nothing. Just the muffled sound of Soong’s voice. Li manoeuvred himself into a position that let him see in without being seen himself. Soong was talking animatedly on the telephone, but Li couldn’t make out what he was saying. Soong hung up and lit a cigarette. The ashtray on the table was full to overflowing. The room was thick with smoke, like smog. Soong began pacing, and then suddenly he stopped and looked right at Li. Li froze, and for a moment felt trapped in the gaze of the ah kung. Then he realised that from the inside all Soong could see was a reflection of himself. He was looking at himself in the glass. Gone were the jeans and the baseball jacket. He wore a sombre blue suit, starched white shirt and red tie. This was serious business. Li wondered if he was impressed by what he saw. As Soong raised his cigarette to his mouth with his left hand, he saw his ring reflected in the window, and he paused, with his hand at his face, to run the fingers of his right hand over the faded etching in the fossilised resin that was the amber stone. A small vanity had betrayed a larger vice.

  Li stepped forward and slid the door open, taking some pleasure from the fear that blanched Soong’s face and made him turn, startled, with a small cry.

  Smoke swept past Li, drawn out by the chill night and sucked into the void. He raised his eyebrows in an expression of surprise. ‘I thought you were expecting me.’

  Soong recovered his composure quickly. ‘Of course.’ He smiled. ‘But not by the tradesman’s entrance.’ It was a quick-thinking put-down, designed to re-establish his position of power. He turned to the table and lifted a black rectangular box about the size of a TV remote. It had a loop of chrome at one end, and looked like the kind of wand security men employ at airports to detect metal. ‘You don’t mind if I check you for wires.’ It wasn’t a question.

  Li shrugged, and Soong quickly ran the wand over him from head to foot, front to back. Satisfied that he was clean, Soong dropped it back on the table and said, ‘Smart man. Maybe we can get down to business now.’

  Li said, ‘You were going to tell me who the ah kung is. The one they call Kat.’

  Soong smiled. ‘I don’t really need to do that, Mr. Li, do I?’ Li canted his head and shrugged his eyebrows and Soong added, ‘But, you know, I’m not the monster you think I am.’

  ‘You have no idea what I think, Soong.’

  ‘Oh, I could have a pretty good guess. I’m sure you’re thinking how you would love to get me in an interrogation room back in Beijing, stick me with a cattle prod, deprive me of sleep. And you’re probably wondering how it was with me and your sister. When I fucked her. You know, that night at the Golden Mountain Club.’ It was a deliberate and spiteful provocation, Soong testing his power, pushing Li to the limit, wondering perhaps just how far he could go. ‘Well, she was just another whore.’

  With a composure that he didn’t feel, Li said, ‘And you were just another trick.’ He scratched his chin thoughtfully, trying to recall her exact words. ‘What was it she said…? Short and fat, with a big belly and bad breath. They get on top of you and hump for a couple of minutes and then they’re all spent. It’s hard to tell who you’re with. Sound about right?’

  Soong glared at him. He was vulnerable on vanity. ‘I offer our people the chance of a better life,’ he said in a voice that barely concealed his anger. ‘Hope, not hardship, Mr. Li. Dollars, not deprivation. In China they have no freedom. In America at least they can dream.’

  ‘You’re a real philanthropist,’ Li said.

  Soong bristled. ‘No, I’m a businessman. Nothing in life is free And, of course, there is a price to pay. But I enable them to pay it. I lend money to the families in China so they can make down payments to send their loved ones to Meiguo—to the Beautiful Country. When they get here, I find them jobs so that they can pay off the debts and pay up the balance. I make it possible for them to send money home to their families in Fujian. And I am much more efficient at it than the Bank of China.’ He snorted his derision. ‘They take three weeks to send cash. Their exchange rates are terrible, and they will only deal in yuan. My rates are as good as any
you can find in America, I deliver the money in a matter of hours, and always in dollars.’

  ‘What a hero,’ Li said. ‘If you were a Catholic they’d make you a saint.’ He lit a cigarette. ‘And I suppose the sixty thousand dollars you charge is just to cover expenses.’

  ‘It is an expensive business, transporting people halfway across the world, providing papers, accommodation, bribing officials. But, of course, I make a profit. It is the business I am in.’

  ‘The exploitation business,’ Li said. ‘Charging poor people more money than they could dream of in a lifetime to come to America and be forced into slave labour. An only slightly more sophisticated version of what the British did to the Africans two hundred years ago.’

  Soong was losing patience. ‘There is no point in debating the issue with you, Li. You will never be convinced. But every single Chinese I bring into this country has the chance to work his way to freedom.’

  ‘In brothels and gambling dens?’ Li had a vivid picture in his head of his sister, tears streaming down her face, as she sat in the interview room at the Holliday Unit, and he took a long pull at his cigarette to try to keep his anger battened down.

  Soong hissed his frustration. ‘I never pretended it was easy,’ he snapped. ‘I travelled the same road myself, and look where I am now. I don’t know many who would exchange their shot at the American Dream for life under the Communists.’ He stabbed a finger in Li’s direction. ‘And as for your precious Chinese government, their attempts at stopping illegal immigration are a joke. Hah! I’ve seen the posters in Fujian myself. WE MUST INTENSIFY OUR EFFORTS IN STOPPING THE PATHOLOGIC SOCIAL TREND OF IRREGULAR IMMIGRATION. And…ATTACK THE SNAKEHEADS, DESTROY THE SNAKEPITS, PUNISH THE ILLEGAL IMMIGRANTS. It’s pathetic!’ Pinpoints of light burned deep in his black eyes. ‘The truth is, Beijing wants them to go. There are too many people already in China, and too few jobs. And once they are here, all those illegal immigrants send money home. They inject millions into the local economy of Fujian. An economy that would probably collapse without them.’ Tiny specks of spittle were gathering around the corners of his mouth. ‘The snakeheads are the people’s friends.’

  ‘Shutting the air vents in that truck and murdering ninety-eight people wasn’t very friendly,’ Li said.

  Soong’s face coloured. ‘That was an accident. The vent got closed by mistake. It was a terrible thing.’

  ‘Yeah, it cost you six million dollars.’

  ‘Actually,’ Soong looked at him very directly and said levelly, ‘it was more than that. I have already ordered that every penny paid to send these poor people to America be paid back to the bereaved families.’

  ‘I’m sure that will more than compensate for their loss,’ Li said.

  Soong almost flinched from the acid in his tone. ‘I didn’t like you the first time I met you, Li,’ he said. ‘And you’re not doing anything to change my first impressions.’ He paused to take a deep breath and steady himself. ‘It gave me nothing but pain to see my fellow countrymen die like that.’

  Li leaned forward to stub out his cigarette. ‘Is that why you’re injecting them with a lethal virus?’ He saw Soong’s jaw clench, and the skin darken around his eyes.

  ‘That,’ Soong said, in a low, dangerous voice, ‘was nothing to do with us.’ He paused for a long time, then he said, ‘About six months ago we subcontracted the final leg of the journey — the border crossing — to a well-establish gang from Colombia. They had been bringing drugs into the United States successfully for decades. They knew all the routes, every trick. And their success rate has been 30 percent higher than ours.’

  Li frowned. ‘Why would Colombian drug smugglers want to bring in illegal Chinese?’

  ‘Because the money’s just as good, but the risks are a lot lower,’ Soong said. ‘The penalties handed out by courts in the US for people smuggling are much lighter than they are for drugs.’

  ‘So why were they injecting them with the flu virus?’

  Soong shook his head grimly. ‘We have no idea. We made contact with them immediately after our meeting with you yesterday. Of course they denied it, but then they would, wouldn’t they?’ He walked toward the window and gazed at his own reflection for a moment. ‘But we’ll find out,’ he said. ‘We owe them around ten million dollars. As of today I have put a stop on all payments.’ He turned and smiled at Li. ‘We may be about to witness the first ever Chinese-Colombian war. One way or another we’ll come up with answers and put a stop to it.’

  Li said, ‘And how are you going to stop me having you arrested?’

  Soong laughed in his face. ‘You can’t have me arrested, Li. You have no evidence. Not a scrap. And I am a respectable citizen, a democratically elected member of the city council.’

  Li started to circle the table, Soong watching carefully his every step. ‘Tell me how you managed to keep your identity a secret for so long, Soong,’ Li said.

  Soong shrugged. ‘Quite simple. When you employ so many people in so many different countries, you never deal directly with any of them. Everything is delegated. So there are only a handful of people who know my real identity, and they are all making far too much money to betray me.’

  ‘So what am I doing here?’

  ‘You’re here to be bribed, Mr. Li. To put your tail between your legs and fuck off back to where you came from. And take your sister with you. That way you both get to live long and happy lives.’

  ‘No one walking around with a killer virus in their genes is going to live a long and happy life,’ Li said.

  Soong waved his hand dismissively. ‘Like I said, I’m not going to debate this with you. Name your price.’

  Li said, ‘You can’t count that high.’

  Soong let his double chin sink on to his chest, a smile on his thick lips. He gave a gentle shake of his head. ‘Why did I just know you were going to be one of those?’ he asked. Then he lifted his head and said brightly, ‘I’ll tell you why. Because my whole organisation operates on the basis that people everywhere are corruptible. And they are. From high and low-ranking officials in the Chinese bureaucracy, to immigration and law enforcement officials across the world. Almost everyone has his price. I say “almost”, because there are always the exceptions. The ones who think they know better, or think they are better. Losers. People with a gift for dying young. You develop an instinct for them.’

  ‘What a fine judge of character you are,’ Li said.

  Soong searched Li’s face to find in it a reflection of the irony in his voice. But his expression was blank. There was something infuriatingly superior about him, and it was getting under Soong’s skin. He said, ‘It is for occasions just such as these that I took out my own insurance policy right here in the United States. In spite of what Congress might like to tell the world, officials in Meiguo are just as corruptible as they are in the People’s Republic.’

  His eyes lifted beyond Li toward the door, and Li cursed his lapse in concentration. He felt, more than heard, the movement behind him, and turned as the door swung open. His stomach lurched as he saw Margaret standing in the doorway, bloodless and scared. Perception followed a split second after incomprehension, but in that tiny fraction of time he felt as if the eight pints of blood coursing through his veins had turned to ice. And then he saw the gun at her head and, as she moved out of the shadow, the tense face of Fuller immediately behind her. ‘Damn you, Li,’ the FBI agent hissed. ‘I knew you were going to be trouble.’ He glanced nervously at Soong. ‘Just as well the bitch called me, or she’d have been a witness to your phone call.’

  Soong grinned. ‘It was easy keeping him talking. He was eager listener.’ And he turned smiling eyes on Li as if to try to underline his superiority while undermining Li’s.

  Fuller pushed Margaret into the room. He had her hair held in a tight bunch in his fist at the back of her head, his gun pressed to her skull just above the ear. ‘What now?’ His eyes were glassy and unfocused, a reflection of his uncertainty.

 
Li exhaled deeply, thoughts tumbling through his mind like a waterfall, but any clarity obscured by the spray. ‘Change of circumstances,’ he said, turning to Soong. ‘We could discuss your offer now.’

  ‘Too late,’ Soong said. ‘I couldn’t trust you. You’ve already played your hand. And, like you said, I’m a fine judge of character.’

  ‘For Christ’s sake speak English,’ Fuller said edgily. Li glanced at him and knew that his fear made him even more dangerous.

  ‘We were discussing the terms of a bribe,’ he said.

  Fuller flicked darting eyes toward Soong who gave the slightest shake of his head.

  Margaret was watching him closely. She said in as strong a voice as she could muster, ‘You don’t want to kill us in here, Mr. Soong. You’d leave too many traces. Blood is very hard to get out of a carpet.’

  Soong nodded. ‘This true. Maybe more fun to shoot you in head down on field. Chinese-style execution.’ He smiled at Li. ‘That how you do it in PRC, yes?’

  But Fuller wasn’t playing. ‘No games, Soong. Let’s just take them somewhere safe and get this over with.’

  ‘And if we refuse to go?’ Margaret asked.

  ‘Then I’ll fucking shoot you where you stand,’ Fuller said. ‘I think Mr. Soong can afford to replace the carpet.’

  ‘I’m sure Mr. Soong can afford lots of things.’ The voice came out of left field, taking them all by surprise. Hrycyk stood in the shadow of the door, his gun pointing directly at Fuller. ‘I’m sure he can afford to pay lawyers to keep him on Death Row for ten years. But this is Texas. We’ll still juice him in the end.’ He nodded toward the FBI agent. ‘Why don’t you just lay that gun on the table, Agent Fuller?’ He let a tiny jet of air escape from between discoloured front teeth. ‘Fucking FBI!’

  Fuller swung toward Hrycyk, pulling Margaret in front of him, and fired toward the INS man. Hrycyk spun away against a panel of switches on the wall, a bullet spitting from his gun. Margaret saw blood running on varnished wood before the lights went out. But she had no time to think about it before all the air was knocked from her lungs as Li piled into both her and Fuller, smashing them against the wall. The three of them fell in a tangle to the floor. Margaret was trapped between the two of them, wriggling to get free. And then her head was filled with light and a crashing pain as Fuller’s foot made contact with her skull. She gasped, and felt the power ebbing from her limbs. She went limp, a dead weight on top of Li, but still vaguely conscious. She was aware of Li pushing her aside and clambering to his feet. In a moment the light came on again, and Li was crouching beside her, helping her to sit up.