Further details had come in from Hong Kong. The man who had repeatedly driven his fist into Li’s face in the dark and wet the night before, the man whose face now stared up at him from the fax on his desk, was known as Johnny Ren. He had a long record of juvenile offences from the age of twelve, ranging from theft to rape and assault. A nice kid, Li thought. He was now thirty and hadn’t been arrested for more than eight years. The Hong Kong police, however, did not believe he had suddenly seen the error of his ways. Their information suggested he had been taken under the wing of a Triad gang operating out of Kowloon, and they suspected his involvement in at least half a dozen gang killings in the early nineties. Intelligence from underworld sources led them to believe that he was now operating as a freelance “mechanic,” or hit-man. But they had no evidence to back this up. His legitimate income came from a chain of restaurants in which he was a partner. He lived well, had an expensive apartment near the racecourse on Hong Kong Island, and kept a boat at the marina. He drove a Mercedes Sports and owned a Toyota Landcruiser. He wore Versace suits and smoked American cigarettes. Li didn’t need to be told which brand. Someone in the Hong Kong police had done their homework on Johnny Ren. But he wasn’t home right now, and nobody had seen him for several weeks.

There was a knock at Li’s door, and Qian looked in. “Everyone’s here, boss.”

“Did you get all that stuff copied?”

“Yeah. It’s being handed out in the meeting room now.”

“Good. Be right there.” Li gathered his papers and stood up. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, and saw Johnny Ren’s face as it had been last night in the park. It was burned into his brain. A face contorted by anger and intent, leaning over him, only inches away, the smell of his rank smoker’s breath in Li’s nostrils. Whatever cool, professional control Johnny Ren had learned over the years had eluded him in the park. He had been going to kill Li. He had been going to drive his fist into the detective’s face again and again until the bone splintered and gave way and the soft brain behind it turned to mush. Li had seen it in his eyes. Johnny Ren had made a mistake and Li was going to die for it.