Both Milo and Noah had packed pistols—a SIG Sauer and a Taurus Millennium, respectively—and driven a fast hour and a half from Milan to Turin, where they showed their IDs at the front desk of UNICRI, the UN’s Interregional Crime and Justice Research Institute. The low, broad headquarters was old, like a lot of other UN buildings, and they took the stairs to the second floor’s rarely used secure communications room. At one end a monitor was bolted to the wall, and its controller was in the center of a long conference table. Noah lowered the blinds as Milo fooled with the controls, trying to pull up a signal.
“Where do I type the conference code?” he asked, puzzled.
“Let me do that.”
Noah brought up the menu on the monitor and worked at it, finally pulling up a screen that said WAITING FOR REMOTE HOST and showed, in the lower corner, an image of the two of them in the room.
“Want me to wait outside?” Noah asked.
“No need for him to see your face.”
As Noah exited to the corridor, the screen flickered, then lit up with a wide view of a similar conference room in Beijing—similar because it was also a UN space, the Development Program for China. At the Beijing conference table, with a teacup in front of him, sat an old Chinese man, bald and enormous, a man who had once been the most terrifying thing in the world to Milo.
Xin Zhu was the closest Milo had to an enemy. There had been competitors, and there were always threats, but the history between him and the Chinese colonel from the Ministry of State Security was particularly fraught. If given the chance, he knew, Xin Zhu would crush Milo, his family, and the entirety of the Library. By wiping out the Department of Tourism he had proved himself uniquely dangerous—which was why, once he took over the Library, Milo had put every effort into finding a way to neutralize the old man. After initially blackmailing Xin Zhu, he’d meticulously documented each of their interactions. By now he had an entire book of evidence that, were it slipped to Beijing, could only result in the harsh interrogation and swift execution of the old Chinese colonel. It was the best protection Milo could manage.
“You have not slept,” Xin Zhu finally said, his accent thick.
“I’ve been busy.”
“Bad idea,” he said. “Rest before negotiations, not after.”
“I’m not here to negotiate. I’m here to ask about Leticia Jones.”
“Ms. Jones?” Xin Zhu said. A smile.
Xin Zhu was playing with him, and he wasn’t sure why. Noah had already communicated the topic of conversation. Still, this was Xin Zhu, who never made things easy. Milo leaned closer. “Leticia Jones has been taken into custody.”
“By whom?”
“I was hoping you would know.”
Xin Zhu blinked languidly at him, not wanting to fill in the silence. Finally, he sighed and said, “She was in Shanghai. Correct?”
Milo nodded.
“Yanlord Garden. Breaking and entering.”
“She wasn’t taken by security guards, was she?”
Xin Zhu smiled again, broader now. “Leticia Jones taken by security guards. Imagine!” He shook his head. “No, of course not.”
“Your people? Guoanbu?”
Xin Zhu cleared his throat and leaned back, regarding Milo warily. “From what I can tell, no, we do not have her. Nor does the Ministry of Public Security—I called Pudong precinct myself.”
“Do they know anything about her?”
Xin Zhu didn’t answer. He reached for his tea, took a sip, and replaced the cup in the saucer. “Do you know of the International Defense Institute?”
Milo did. “Private military training school outside Beijing. Run by Northwell International.”
“Their graduates are not only Chinese,” Xin Zhu said casually. “They are Japanese, Indonesian, South Korean. More. They are so successful they are building another school on Sakhalin Island, across the border in Russia.”
“Sakhalin?” Milo asked, surprised by the coincidence before realizing that it was no coincidence at all, and a new connection was made. He said, “Tóuzī, the development firm, is building it.”
A smile. “So you do know something about it.”
Not much, Milo thought, but returned to the matter at hand: “So Leticia’s been taken by graduates of the IDI?”
“You tell me what she was doing in Yanlord Garden, Milo, and I’ll find the answer to your question.”
“I’d rather not,” Milo said.
Xin Zhu shrugged theatrically, as if to say, What can I do, then?
Milo suppressed an urge to shout. He lowered his voice: “I have a book, Xin Zhu. With the press of a button it’s published for the world to see.”
“It’s been ten years, Milo. You don’t think I’ve come up with ways to talk my way out of trouble by now?”
“And each of those ten years you’ve been helping me. Each year adds a dozen more pages to the book. You’ll never be able to talk fast enough.”
Xin Zhu frowned, as if this hadn’t occurred to him. But of course it had. He never entered a meeting without knowing precisely how it would end. Milo imagined that for a man like Xin Zhu, life was dull and without surprise, but it was also safe.
Milo said, “Sung Hui wouldn’t last long without you.”
Xin Zhu winced at the mention of his wife, a surprisingly naked emotion from the old man. “I know the names of your family, too, Milo.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
Xin Zhu sighed. “You do realize, don’t you, that one day everything will flip? Black will be white. Victors will be defeated.”
“You’re nearly seventy, Xin Zhu. You’d better work faster.”
Another smile slipped onto the colonel’s face. “So. You want me to find Leticia Jones.”
“I want you to get her safely out of China.”
He opened his large hands. “Do you think that would go unnoticed, Milo? Northwell has friends in the Central Committee. I will be asked very serious questions.”
Milo had considered this on the drive to Turin and had called Kristin to prepare for it. He took a slip of paper from his pocket and said, “I’m going to read you an IP address. It’ll give you the excuse you need.”
“What is it?”
“A rundown of weaknesses in Japan’s domestic intelligence apparatus.”
Xin Zhu raised his eyebrows. “You’re handing me Japan?”
“A carefully curated list. It will be good enough to justify your help. But not good enough to cause serious trouble.”
Xin Zhu sighed heavily. “You must really want Leticia Jones back.” When Milo didn’t answer, he said, “And that, Milo, is how I will get you in the end.”