the edge of its cliff. It had an ornate gate out front and a driveway that seemed a mile long.
“Who lives here?” Twitch asked.
“Your friend,” one cop replied. “The Shang Si. The Boss.”
Nolan and Twitch just eyed each other. Sunny Hi.
The cop doing the driving got out and spoke to someone inside the huge house via an intercom on the gate. Then he waved Nolan and Twitch over.
They climbed out of the cop car just as the huge gates started opening. Beyond were a half-dozen armed men, none of whom looked happy.
“Go ahead,” the cop urged Nolan and Twitch. “They’re expecting you. Give them that cup of sugar and everything will be OK.”
With that, the cop returned to his car and roared away, lights flashing, siren wailing.
Nolan didn’t know what to do. The guards were eying them very suspiciously. Yet if he and Twitch chose to leave now, he doubted these guys would just let them walk away.
It was the catch-22 all over again. They were suddenly back inside their secret mission, again with no support, no communications and, most distressing, no weapon. And no longer any good reason to be here.
Nolan and Twitch finally walked through the open gate and were met by the small army of bodyguards. They were searched three times, but all they had on them at this point was the little bowl of sugar and the clothes on their backs. Still, the frisking process took more than five minutes, interspersed with a lot of back and forth on the bodyguards’ walkie-talkies.
Finally, the guards simply told them to go.
Nolan and Twitch walked up the long driveway, a journey that took them almost five minutes. It was like walking into a dream, colors everywhere, trees swaying in unison. Water fountains rising up from nowhere, throwing up huge sprays in the mist and then disappearing just as quickly. Piped-in music was all around them, wafting on the breeze.
At last, they found themselves at the front entrance to the house, looking at two wooden doors so tall they seemed to get lost in the stars.
The mansion itself looked like something on the California coast. A palatial, two-floor beach house, half of it leaning out on stilts dug into the side of the tall hill. It had huge windows all around, most of them looking down on the expanse of Old Shanghai below.
It was impressive, no matter who owned it.
Nolan noticed one odd thing, though: a large pipe at the bottom of the house that went straight down like an elevator shaft until it disappeared into the shadows and dull lights below.
Escape hatch? he wondered.
They knocked, meekly. The huge door opened on its own. They took a peek inside and were relieved to find no drugged-out gunmen or hookers here, at least not in plain view. Instead they found themselves gazing at a grand entranceway with a long, curving path passing through a vast multi-story indoor garden. Only at the end of this pathway could they see the actual front of the house.
They stepped into the garden room, which seemed as big as Grand Central Station—but of course, both of them were still tripping mightily. The ceiling and walls were made of brilliant, emerald-tinged glass. Exotic plants were everywhere, and a stream of sparkling water fell from a balcony two stories high. A pond the size of an Olympic swimming pool sat halfway down the pathway. Spanned by a bamboo bridge, the pond was filled not with plain old koi, but with strange and exotic saltwater fish such as wrasse, flame angels and cat sharks.
Dozens of cameras looked down at them from every angle, and no doubt the place was thick with hidden microphones, too. Nolan nudged Twitch and put his finger to his lips as casually as he could. Twitch got the message. Definitely no talking here.
A servant dressed in ancient Mandarin-style silks met them on the bridge. Old and gray, with a long, stringy beard, he seemed to have walked out of a 1930s movie.
He bowed. They bowed back. He bowed again, then said in Wu: “My employer is looking forward to meeting you.”
He made no comment on their rather ragged condition. He took them out of the garden, through the front entrance of the house, and into a grand room that looked like a real Mandarin throne room. The soaring columns, the gilding, the artwork and architecture—it was as if they’d been transported back in time to ancient China, except for one thing. In one corner of