“That’s all behind us now.”

“Fabulous. Superb. Really. Now, Nola, everyone is talking about your ‘Flower Babies’ song. When can we expect it in the stores?”

“As soon as things are settled, I’m sure.” She hoped that Phonomania’s new management would release a single instead of an album that would take months to produce. “It’s a great song, and I can’t wait to share it with you all.”

“HBO got the footage of your famous Shanghai concert but won’t share it. And the Chinese confiscated all the other videos. There’s a black market for copies of it. A listener has sent one, but our lawyers have put the kibosh on playing it.”

“If I knew how to upload and distribute a song over the Internet, I would have done so,” Nola said. But perhaps giving the song away was not the best option for raising awareness of the crimes committed against babies in China. After all, Elton John hadn’t given away his adapted “Candle in the Wind.” He had sold it to raise millions for Princess Di’s causes.

Nola passed her hand over her abdomen muscles. They felt slack. She needed another day or two to recuperate. “Would you like me to sing it now?” she asked.

“What a fabulous idea!”

For a split second Nola regretted her impetuousness. The crackling phone lines would not do the song justice. And that flutist and drummer had added a wonderful touch. Behind her, she heard Sharon instruct the operator to hold all calls and keep the line open. Standing next to a shredding machine bin filled with the discards of a workday, Nola held the phone receiver like a microphone and let the song happen. Wherever they were, Jean-Claude was having another fit and Wade was counting on his gloved fingers all the copyrights she was risking.

When she was done, she thanked the listeners with all the warmth she felt. “Bye. I love you all.”

Trentafillos re-entered. There was a scowl on his forehead. “I’ll drive you back to your cottage,” he said. “If you have any special requests, we’ll try to honor them. Please page me.” That belligerent tone again, regardless of the content.

“Isn’t there a deputy ambassador?” Nola asked.

“He’s away on an assignment.”

“What if there’s a diplomatic crisis? Who issues visas around here?”

“We have staff for routine processing.”

“Well, then, can you issue a visa for Lulu? What am I waiting here for?”

“I assume you’re not her official legal guardian.”

“Actually, I’ve adopted her,” she said, regretting that she might not be able to keep the location of Ming-Ji’s operation secret.

“Is that so? Can you prove it?”

She took the rolled documents out of a plastic bag. “They’re in Chinese.”

“That’s all right.”