Chapter 4: Tomorrow's Threats

Yan Shiliang went back up to the forty-first floor at nine, because the building was quietest then.

He did not go to his office.

He went to the long negotiating room, switched on one lamp at his end of the table, and sat down in front of the memo.

Gao's initials were at the bottom of every page, small and neat.

G.B., G.B., G.B.

Qiao Min came in without knocking, which she had done for eight years.

She was thirty-eight, in a grey cardigan over her work clothes, and she carried a tablet against her chest.

"You asked me to look into the second interpreter," she said.

"Yes."

"Cheng Ao sends a report to a private address every night at nine. The Group owns the network he sends it on."

She put the tablet on the table and turned it toward him.

Yan read it twice.

The log listed Lu Wen's changes by time, with the original Chinese in one column and the Norvane in the other.

It was accurate.

Every line was exactly what Yan had said and exactly what Lu Wen had given back.

The last entry was the berths and Ostrova, with a note in the margin: Rendered as written confirmation. Original is a threat.

"He's good," Qiao Min said.

"He's very good," said Yan.

"The address belongs to Vice Chairman Gao's driver."

She tapped the screen.

"And the board observation line you agreed to last spring plays this room's audio to Gao's office. It's on whenever you're in here."

"Chinese audio only."

"He doesn't speak Norvane," said Qiao Min. "He hears you. He doesn't hear the translation."

Yan took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

He thought about the lift that afternoon.

He had meant to say something clever.

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