her hotel room. She went to Chairman Hong’s country residence every day, usually driven by Tang. Weeks of conversation in the car had led to one thing and then another. She painted her toes orange because Tang said he liked that, and she’d discovered that she indeed liked the big Lion Guardsman.
“Look,” one of the operatives said.
Shun Li looked up. The operative tugged the other man’s sleeve and pointed at her orange toenails.
That was the problem with East Lightning operatives, especially ones working this near the Police Minister. Secret policemen were trained to observe. They were ferrets sniffing out disloyalty to the state. To do so, they often looked for the smallest of clues that would give a person away.
The second operative laughed. “Orange toenails, Shun Li?”
She shrugged, smiling at the man.
He did not smile back. Instead, with such a serious look in his eyes, he was obviously filing the information away. Xiao would have likely tasked these two with studying her behavior. The toenail painting would go into the databanks concerning her personality. On such little things could a career—or a life—hang.
I am a barracuda among killer whales and great white sharks.
Yet even barracuda’s had eyes, and they could think and file information away, too. She stalled now in the hallway for an excellent reason. Marshal Gang of First Front should be in California, of that she was certain. It would be easy to discover if he’d made a trip to China. If he had not made an overt trip, then logic dictated he had some covertly. Shun Li had spent much of her time studying the political situation—her life depended on it, as she was a mole in the Chairman’s estate for the Police Minister.
Chairman Hong disliked Marshal Gang. The old man with the chest full of medals had belonged to the discredited faction backing dead Foreign Minister Deng. At the end of the California invasion, Hong had instructed Xiao to shoot Deng.
Why had Hong left Gang in military control in California? Shun Li didn’t know the answer to that. Likely, it was for reasons of political maneuvering. The military and especially China’s Army represented the most powerful political bloc in the world. Hong needed to tread lightly with them and at the same time keep them disunited and terrorized if he could.
If Gang had belonged to Foreign Minister Deng’s side, the Marshal probably resented Deng’s untimely passing. He might even want revenge. Certainly, he would have resentments against Hong.
Therefore, the conclusion was terrifying to Shun Li. If Gang had secretly flown to China to meet with the Police Minister, then it would appear that a dangerously advanced coup might be in the making.
Did Xiao fear for his position? Did the Police Minister resent the Chairman’s questioning of her concerning him? Did it even matter what the reason was?
Shun Li stalled because she did not want to enter Xiao’s office so soon after Marshal Gang had left it. The Police Minister might realize she had seen Gang. And there was something she had learned about Xiao Yang these past weeks. He was thorough to an extraordinary degree. He took great pains and observed the minutiae. To protect himself during such a dangerous scheme, he might execute her.
“The Police Minister is waiting,” said one of the operatives. “You can scratch your foot later.”
“I don’t understand it,” she said, continuing to scratch. “My foot itches abominably.”
“We must hurry,” the operative said, pushing against her shoulder.
“Yes, of course,” she said. She pulled on her sock.
She’d learned another thing about the Police Minister. He was an intensely ardent nationalist. He breathed love of China and the greatness of the present venture. He wished America prostrate before China’s feet.
Slipping her foot into the shoe, Shun Li tied the laces tight. She couldn’t think of another way to stall. It might be bad policy to drag this out much further. The orange toenails had diverted the two operatives. If she took any longer, they might realize her stalling had to do with Marshal Gang’s surprise appearance.
“There,” she said, standing. “That’s much better.”
They turned into the corridor and marched the length to the Police Minister’s ornate door. The senior operative knocked discreetly.
The red light above the door stayed dark. Finally, the intercom buzzed.
“Yes, who is there?” Xiao said.
“It is time for Shun Li’s weekly interview, sir,” the senior operative said.
The red light shined.
“Go in,” the operative told Shun Li.
She did so, closing the door behind her. The Police Minister sat at his desk, and he