Thirty-Three

An avalanche starts as a tiny thing, a little bit of snow sliding down the mountain. Then it catches some more snow, gains some weight, catches more snow, gains more weight, then it really gets going and it’s gone from a little thing to a big thing.

It’s the same with meetings.

I had e-mailed the picture of the Asian guy to Mel, who showed it to Kamela Jones, who called the CIA, who contacted Lieutenant Lee, who harassed me, which caused me to call my lawyer, Caroline Quinn. I sat at one end of the table. Jael sat next to me. Caroline on the other side. Then Lee. Then Mel. Then the hook-nosed Pat from the senator’s office, and finally some guy from the CIA.

“You know what this meeting needs?” I said. “More people. We don’t have nearly enough people.”

The CIA guy, Parks, blinked at me.

“Am I right?” I asked him.

“We’ll see,” he said.

A picture of my Chinese assailant flashed on the wall.

“Before we start,” said Caroline, “Lieutenant Lee, are you planning to accuse Tucker of any more crimes today?”

“No,” Lee said. “Not today.”

“Then my work is done,” said Caroline. She leaned back, began tapping on her phone.

“You want to leave?” I asked her.

“Are you leaving?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then I’ll stay here and make sure you don’t reincriminate yourself.”

Agent Parks of the CIA pointed at the picture. “His name is Xiong Shoushan and he owns Xiong Distribution.”

“What does Xiong distribute?” asked Mel.

“They are Boston’s leading supplier of plastic Jesus statues. The ones people stick on their dashboard.”

“Dashboard Jesuses?”

I said, “The plural is dashboard Jesi.”

Parks said, “No, I think it’s Jesuses.”

Caroline looked up from her phone, “Definitely Jesuses.”

I asked, “Any reason plastic Jesus guys would want to keep me from working with the FBI?”

“He’s not only a small business owner,” said Parks. He flashed another picture up. A phalanx of Chinese guys in formal gray officer uniforms filled the screen.

“He’s in this picture,” said Parks.

“Where?”

Lee said, “You cannot find him in the picture?”

A mass of identical gray uniforms confronted me. All the guys wore the same black hat with golden seal, same gray jacket, white shirt, black tie, gold button. Same thousand-yard stare on all twenty faces.

“No.”

“We all look alike to you.”

“No, you don’t,” I said. Looked back at the picture. They all looked alike to me.

Jael said, “Second row, three from the left.”

Lee said, “Yes. At least somebody is observant.”

I said, “He’s in the Chinese army?”

“He’s a Chinese army officer assigned to the Ministry of State Security.”

“What’s that?”

“The Chinese CIA.”

“Right. How do you know that?”

“Classified.”

“And you found him with facial-recognition software?” I asked.

“Classified.”

“Okay, then.”

“Xiong Distribution is in Everett.”

“They distribute dashboard Jesi from Everett?”

“It’s next to the ships,” said Parks.

“Right. The Shanghai dashboard Jesi haulers.”

Parks ignored me. “We called them. They wouldn’t talk to us, but they have a neighbor who runs constant video surveillance. We got this from him.”

The next shot on the screen showed Xiong Shoushan getting out of a cab, walking toward the Xiong offices.

“I had better get out there,” Mel said.

Lee said, “We’ll get out there.”

“Maybe it should be CIA,” Parks said.

“No,” Mel said. “It should be the FBI.”

Lee said, “I think it should be the Boston Police Department.”

Mel said, “But it’s not in Boston.”

Parks said, “I could head out there.”

Mel said, “This is clearly my job.”

Lee said, “It could be an unofficial visit.”

It was time to change the dynamic. I tapped Jael on the elbow, motioned that we should go. We stood. Everyone looked at me.

I shook Caroline’s hand. “Thanks, Counselor. I’m out of here.”

Caroline asked, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to check out Xiong Distribution with Mel.”

Lee said, “We haven’t decided who’s going to Xiong.”

Mel stood. “Yes, we have,” she said. “When you all figure it out, you call us and we’ll tell you what we found.”