“Nothing. Not directly. I’ve employed people to help me track down the network in China, but it’s almost impossible. They exist on encrypted messaging apps and use cryptocurrencies for their transactions. We’re not making progress. I need to speak to someone who knows something of this shadow network. I want to do something to get these labs shut down. Or at least get the drugs out of my city. Names to give to the police, prosecutors. The works. I think we should work together. I have the resources you need to find Dao, and you have some kind of personal connection to him.”

“Why do you want him so much?”

“I don’t. At least not Dao specifically. I want names, and he’s my main lead.”

Great. Another amateur detective in the mix. “Okay, but why do you want them? What is this about for you?”

He pauses here and looks at Brazuca, as though searching for advice on how to proceed. Brazuca remains impassive.

This is an interesting development.

The last time I’d seen these two together they had seemed like friends. But something has changed between them.

Lam turns back to me. “The woman who died . . . I loved her very much. Making sure these people don’t hurt anyone else is . . . of interest.”

There’s a photograph I’ve seen once, of Lam at the opening of some art gallery or the other. He is dressed in a tuxedo and has a glass of champagne in his hand. Even though he’s surrounded by people, there is a shield around him. Men this powerful don’t allow other people into their personal space. They demand fealty, but they don’t necessarily give it. It’s lonely to be at the top. He’d brought someone into his circle, and her death was a kind of betrayal. Even if he didn’t love her as much as he claims he did, he may never have had something taken from him before.

Or maybe he’s got too much time on his hands and spending Daddy’s billions isn’t as spiritually fulfilling as it once was.

As I consider Bernard Lam’s offer, I can feel Brazuca’s disapproval directed at Lam, and at me by extension. He shifts his weight, blocking my view of Lam slightly. He’s doing that thing that men sometimes do, but I’m not his to protect.

“Okay,” I say to Lam now. “Let’s find Dao.”

Lam breaks into a smile. “Good. I have a meeting with Peter Vidal to set up in the next day or so. We’re going to discuss my support of his development project. Maybe he’ll be inspired to tell me all about Jimmy Fang.”

When Lam leaves, taking his old-money smell and mysterious fashion sense with him, Brazuca deflates. “This is a mistake.”