I understand his thinking. Nobody has ever particularly cared where I go or what I do, but I’d imagine it would get irritating if all of a sudden someone did.

Brazuca takes a seat on the lounger beside Lam while I remain standing. It’s cool enough now that I can bear being outdoors without a frozen drink in my hand.

“Nora found a bar where some of the private security team for the mine hang out. They had some interesting things to say. There’s been some petty local gang activity. There was also an earthquake and some pretty bad landslides a few days before we got here. People are on edge.”

“Okay,” says Lam, somewhat impatiently. “And Dao?”

Brazuca smiles, but there’s no warmth to it. Lam doesn’t notice or doesn’t particularly care. “They talked about the head of security at the mine. A big Chinese bloke, ex–British military. He’s been on their asses for about a year. Everyone hates him. The security teams because he won’t fraternize with them and some of them think he’s a gangster. The workers because he’s tough on them. The villagers because he’s Chinese, but from Vietnam. Some just don’t like his face.”

“Did you see him?”

“No. Apparently he’s been laying low because of some dustup with a protester.”

I stare at Brazuca. “Chinese from Vietnam?”

“There’s a sizable ethnic Chinese population spread across Southeast Asia, Vietnam included,” Lam explains. “During the Vietnam War, many Vietnamese fled and ended up in refugee camps. Some of them made it to Hong Kong.”

“Then, for Dao, the UK,” I say. “And then wherever the Zhangs needed him to be. Which may be why Dao seems like a ghost. He’s moved around.”

Brazuca looks at me. “We need Simone.”

“She’s in rehab. But I think it’s one of those facilities where patients can bring their computers. She took her laptop with her when I dropped her off at the ferry.”

He thinks about it for a moment. “If it’s the Gulf Island facility she stayed at a few years ago, then yes. They allow phones and laptops.”

“Who’s Simone?” asks Lam.

“Cyber expert,” Brazuca says.

Lam frowns. “An addict, though? I can find you someone else. I’ve got a guy.”

“I’m sure you do. But I like my guy so I’m going with her,” I say.

He doesn’t like my tone. Maybe it’s disrespectful, but I couldn’t care less. “You know what your problem is?” Lam says. “You hate the rich.”

“I eat the rich.”

“Come take a bite.” He opens his arms. I’m perversely tempted. He’s lost weight, but there are still quite a few prime cuts left on him.