A little after eight the next morning, Bai raised her hand to knock on Lee’s door. Before she could drop her arm, the door opened. Dark circles rimmed Lee’s eyes. He shuffled out of the doorway to walk beside her as she silently turned to make her way toward the garage.

“Did you sleep?” she asked.

“Not much. How about you?”

“Not much.” She looked at him tiredly. “Fear is a powerful stimulant.”

She walked into the garage and flicked the switch next to the entry. Bare overhead bulbs snapped on. The lighted space held three cars with room for a fourth.

“I spoke to Elizabeth last night,” Bai said. “I asked if we could borrow her Beamer.”

The black sedan had been sitting, undisturbed, for more than a year. Elizabeth had stubbornly refused to accept the gift from her son. Jason had stubbornly refused to accept its return. Pigheadedness, apparently, was an inherited trait.

Lee grunted in amusement. “Did she even remember she owned a car?”

“She suggested I keep it. She said she doesn’t have any use for a car.”

“Or for the son who gave it to her.”

He walked around to the trunk of the sedan where he disconnected the tender, a device that kept the battery charged. She opened the driver’s door to find the key in the center console. She slipped the fob into the ignition slot and pushed the start button. The car started without hesitation as Lee settled into the passenger seat next to her. A button next to the rearview mirror opened the garage door.

She backed the car into the alley and waited while the garage door closed. The odometer read thirty-one miles. A melding of plastic out-gassing and light machine oil imbued the air with new car smell. Stiff, pristine leather seats cradled them. As she slipped the car into first gear, she turned to smile at Lee, and laid scratch, the wheels spinning as she exited the alley.

Driving past the now-familiar sentries, Lee waved. A black sedan pulled out to tail the Beamer as it headed toward the Russian Hill district where Race lived. As expected, when she turned right on California Street to leave Chinatown, the shadowing car pulled to the curb.

She spoke to Lee, watching in her rearview mirror as the black sedan made a U-turn. “You talked to Robert last night?”

“Yeah, the police didn’t keep him long. They don’t consider him a suspect in Park’s murder. I guess they don’t think he has the stomach for it.” A small deprecating smile played across his lips. “He’s expecting your call this afternoon.”

She didn’t acknowledge his attempt at humor. She wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “Let’s hope we have good news for him. His business partner’s missing, and his receptionist is dead.” She turned to look at Lee. “Don’t make life harder for him.”

At her not-so-gentle rebuff, he looked aside at her and sighed. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be so hard on him. I have a hard time liking Robert. He’s fussy and he’s cheap. He reminds me of my grandmother. I never liked that woman.”

“He can be frugal,” she admitted, “but he’s saved me a lot of money over the years. His penny-pinching is one of the reasons I employ him. That thing about his reminding you of your grandmother, I can’t help you with. You’ll need therapy for that one.”

Lee spoke dismissively. “He’s more interested in money than he is in people. You saw how Park lived. It bothers me.”

“I don’t make it personal, and you shouldn’t either. It’s business. Besides, I deal mostly with Benny, whom I’m genuinely fond of. My feelings for him give me even more reason to find him.” She glanced aside at him to drive her point home. “You need to stop and think about how Robert’s feeling. Benny was the rainmaker in their partnership. He brought in the business. Robert did all the number crunching. He probably feels lost without Benny. They were closer than most married couples.”

Lee sighed. “You’re right. My bad.” He changed the subject. “Do you think Park handled the contract on you? Do you suppose that’s what got her killed?”

“Maybe. I just don’t know.” She shook her head, unsure of pretty much everything. “There isn’t any evidence Park had anything to do with the contract. And there’s no way to question her now. It seems like everywhere we look, we run into a dead end—literally. It’s as if whoever’s behind these attempts on my life is always one step ahead of us.”

“It’s time we did some catching up then.”

She pulled to the curb at the corner of Lombard and Polk. Dressed casually in tan khaki slacks and a light-green windbreaker, Race stood in the doorway of his apartment building. He wore a baseball cap and sunglasses—Ivy League preppie. A large satchel hung from his shoulder on a strap.

As he walked toward the car, Bai pulled the release on the trunk and heard the soft pop of the lid opening. He stopped to deposit his satchel before firmly closing the trunk and climbing into the backseat.

“What’s in the bag?” she asked as she pulled away from the curb.

He caught her eye in the rearview mirror. “Just a few things we might need. I wasn’t sure what kind of terrain we’d be reconnoitering, so I came prepared.”

Lee took the opportunity to needle him. “‘Reconnoitering!’ I’ve never reconnoitered before. Do we need a permit for that?”

She studied Race’s face in the rearview mirror. He was clearly annoyed by Lee’s banter.

He answered the question tersely. “We’re going to look at land. We don’t know if the land is flat or hilly. Under certain circumstances, a pistol might prove insufficient in rough terrain. I brought along something with more range than a handgun. My job is to protect Bai. I can’t do that without the proper tools, as you so cleverly pointed out yesterday, Lee.”

Bai spoke softly as she glanced at Lee. “‘There is no wisdom like silence.’”

He had the decency to look contrite. “So, what, exactly, is in the bag?”

“A rifle, set up for sniping and laying down cover fire. It’s an army M110 with a suppression unit, if that means anything to you.”

“It doesn’t,” Lee acknowledged, “but I’ll take your word it’ll do the job. After reading your resume, I suspect you know what you’re doing.”

“That’s what you pay me for.”

Race settled into the backseat and pulled his cap down over his eyes, bringing an end to the conversation.

Her passengers remained quiet as she drove through the city. It wasn’t until they’d crossed the Bay Bridge that Race broke the silence. “Did you find Park?”

Bai considered her answer carefully. “Yes, we found her in her apartment. It appeared she’d been strangled.”

It took a moment for him to reply. “She’s dead? Did you report it to the police?”

She glanced at the rearview mirror “Yes. Robert notified the police.”

“Do they have any suspects? Is there any evidence Park’s death is related to the attempt on your life?”

“I haven’t talked to the police. I don’t know if they have any suspects. Whether or not Park’s death has anything to do with me would be pure speculation. I don’t have any evidence to that effect. I have suspicions, but suspicions are useless without a motive or a suspect. And Park certainly won’t be providing any answers.”

Race stared at her before pulling his cap back over his eyes and settling back into the seat with his arms folded. He mumbled loud enough to be heard. “You certainly are full of surprises.”