The Trail to Buddha's Mirror - Don Winslow [97]
With his copy of Roderick Random and a pen, he got to work. He was still working when the waiter came with his dinner tray. Having devoured the meal, he took the book with him to read while he soaked in an almost scalding bath, and then went back to work at his table. He took the book with him to bed, and woke up with it on his chest when the waiter rattled the breakfast tray.
“Are you taking him out again today?” Xao asked. He lit his second cigarette of the early morning.
“Yes, Comrade Secretary,” Peng answered. “And no surveillance appeared yesterday?” “Only our own.” “You are quite sure?”
“Yes, Comrade Secretary.”
Oh, yes, Comrade Secretary, I am quite sure. None appeared because I ordered none.
Xao inhaled the smoke and worried. On the face of it, it was good that no government surveillance had picked up their “Mr. Frazier,” but faces often lied. And young Frazier’s American friends were raising quite a fuss in Hong Kong. Why had it not reached Beijing? If it had, they would arrest Frazier as soon as he appeared above ground. We certainly trotted him around enough yesterday. Better to be safe and put Mr. Frazier on display a bit more. If the security police picked him up, there would still be time to dig Li Lan and Pendleton in deeper. If the police were truly unaware of Frazier’s true identity, then the rest of the operation could be activated.
“Show him around the city again today,” Xao ordered. “If all stays quiet, take him to the countryside tomorrow.”
“Yes, Comrade Secretary.”
“Good morning.”
Peng turned on his heel with the curt dismissal. Perhaps Comrade Secretary Xao will learn more courtesy when I have the opportunity to interrogate him. Perhaps I shall ask him to light my cigarettes and watch me smoke them.
But first to put them all together—the woman, the scientist, and the persistent young American. Yes, gather them at the scene of Xao’s intended treason, these three strands of the rope with which Xao will hang himself.
Patience, he cautioned himself. Move slowly. Let Xao think it is safe.
Xao waited until Peng had left and then called in his driver.
“How is it?” Xao asked.
“Wu and the American get on well. They are becoming friends.”
“Good. Good. You will be their driver again today.”
The driver nodded deferentially. Xao handed him the pack of cigarettes and motioned him out the door.
I would have more men like him, Xao thought, instead of that snake Peng. He is not clever enough to win, just clever enough to cost me resources and trouble. But he has his uses.
“Good morning, cocksucker,” Wu said.
“Good morning, motherfucker.”
Wu giggled with delight and opened the car door for Neal.
“Today we see the east side of the city,” Wu announced.
They started with the zoo.
Neal Carey liked a zoo as much as the next guy, provided the next guy thought that they were among the most depressing places on earth. He understood that they were necessary, probably even beneficial, in that they were used to breed species that mankind had succeeded in almost wiping out. He also knew that the animals in zoos spent their days pretty much the way their cousins did in the wild, sleeping and eating. There was just something about looking into cages—or even over the hedges and moats that the enlightened Chengdu Zoo featured—at the individuals of another species, that downright demoralized him.
Nevertheless, he feigned polite interest at the golden monkeys, the speckled deer, and the gibbon apes that led up to the featured attraction, Sichuan’s own giant pandas. The two pandas had their own entire section, an “environment” of rocks and bamboo separated from the admiring public by a high railing and a moat. The pandas didn’t actually do much, just sat