Part 12 Answers
ANSWERS
Two households, both alike in dignity . . .
– From: Romeo and Juliet
by William Shakespeare
Downtown Manhattan
30 December, 0850 hours
I met Georgy at Freedom Tower the next morning. It was December 30th, the day before New Year’s Eve.
The colossal glass-sided skyscraper soared into the sky, still the tallest structure in New York (even the makers of the supertalls on Billionaires’ Row, not known for their sensitivity to anyone or anything, had the tact not to make their towers taller than the memorial to 9/11).
We entered the plush reception area of Sinclair the Unperson had gone so far as to mimic this man’s voice.
‘I’m, uh, Sam Speedman. We’ve never met before, have we?’
‘Erm, no . . .’ The real McCade gave me a weird look.
‘Have you ever been to Aristo King’s penthouse at 59West?’
‘Again, no . . .’ McCade said. ‘I think I’d remember that.’
I said, ‘Listen, Mr McCade, Georgy—there’s been a crime committed here, a very clever crime, and I think I can explain it, but I have to go. I have to go now.’
‘Dr Sam, wait!’ Georgy said as I made to leave. ‘What is it?’
‘Yasmina was set up. I’m absolutely certain of that. Mr McCade, your company was set up, too.’
‘What?’ Quinn McCade said.
I said, ‘Everything that happened at 59West on December 21st was an elaborate ruse designed to destroy Yasmina, to make her look like a wronged wife seeking horrible vengeance using the Grandmaster.
‘As for Sinclair a system used by the Chinese government to keep tabs on Chinese folk in America.
It made perfect sense that such a system would be run out of a place like this: an employment office in broad daylight.
Ernest Chang—whoever he was—ran a very unpretentious operation. But then, so would anyone helping out China’s spy agency, the Ministry of State Security.
‘Er, hello,’ the receptionist said quizzically.
I doubted she saw many white Americans walk through her door, especially if she worked for the Chinese Communist Party. ‘How, um, may I help you?’
‘I’m looking for—’
I froze as I saw two men emerge together from a back room, talking quietly.
A portly Chinese man with grey hair (Ernest Chang, maybe?).
And Zhang Xiao, private detective.
‘—him,’ I said.
At the exact same moment, Xiao saw me and his eyes sprang wide.
I imagined that I was the last person he expected to see here.
I also immediately saw the white bandage tied around his left hand.
A bandage for a wound.
Like a gunshot wound suffered during a recent car chase on the Henry Hudson Parkway.
From a shot fired by me.
‘Dr Speedman?’ Xiao said, either confused or alarmed or both. ‘What brings you here?’
The way he emphasised the word here told me everything.
Why was I at a front business for the Chinese government?
‘Modern Alchemical Solutions, Xiao,’ I said. ‘Ever heard of a company by that name? Ever used it?’
His eyes sprang even wider.
‘How could you—?’
‘How’d you hurt your hand, Xiao?’ I said. ‘Trying to snatch Audrey Mills and get the QuantumSpeed-7 chip? After you failed to get it from her on the bridge at the cemetery?’
‘Now, wait just a minute . . .’ Xiao said.
He came round the reception counter.
The young receptionist glanced at the older grey-haired Chinese man, concerned.
Operatives of the Chinese government clearly weren’t used to American private detectives bowling into their office and hurling accusations.
Xiao said, ‘Let’s talk—’
A loud bang cut him off.
The door to the street behind me was kicked open.
‘Freeze! FBI!’
Two agents in (cheap) grey suits stormed in, pistols levelled.
‘Hands where we can see ’em!’ the bigger one shouted.
‘Don’t move, Speedman!’ The smaller agent had his gun trained on me.
And then a third FBI man strolled into the office behind them.
I scowled when I recognised him.
Special Agent Trey Hooper.
‘Well, if it isn’t two of the world’s greatest detectives,’ he said. ‘I must say, I’m a little concerned to see you here, Speedman, at the offices of a known front for the Chinese government. You’ve got some explaining to do.’
‘Listen, Hooper,’ I said quickly. ‘I know more about what happened on December 21st than you might realise. You have to listen to me—’
‘I don’t have to do anything, you scrawny little asshole,’ Hooper said.
He took a few steps forward.
‘No. First, I’m gonna arrest you and then the Bureau’s counter-intelligence unit will hold you indefinitely while they get to the bottom of this. And I’m going to enjoy telling Audrey’s parents about it, too—’
His nose was right up close to mine.
Which was when I saw it.
Over Hooper’s shoulder.
Out on the sidewalk.