She shrugged his hand away. “None of your fucking business,” she said, controlling her tears long enough to get into the elevator and press for her floor. As the doors slid shut, the tears came, hot and salty, and a deep sob tore at her chest. It wasn’t fair. How could they make her go? What right did they have? But she knew she couldn’t fight them, and she saw all her choices dwindling to zero.

She ran, still sobbing, along the landing to her room, past two astonished attendants. Inside, she slipped the chain on the door and sat on the edge of the bed, and let the tears flow freely down her cheeks. Her sense of powerlessness was overwhelming, like that of a child manipulated at the whim of an adult world whose power was absolute. The phone rang and startled her. It couldn’t be Li. She let it ring two or three times, fear growing inside her like a tumour, before lifting the receiver.

“Hello.”

“Dr. Campbell?” An American accent, the voice oddly familiar.

“Who is this?”

“It’s Dr. McCord.”

Her relief was almost palpable. “McCord? What the hell do you want?”

“I need to see you.”

“In your dreams.” Her fear was replaced by anger. “You’re the guy who told me to fuck off twice. Remember? Why would I want to see you?”

“Because I know why Chao Heng was killed. And I think I could be next.”

She caught her breath. There was no doubting the fear in his voice, an odd desperation. “I’ll meet you downstairs in the bar.”

“No,” he said quickly. “Too public. Take a taxi to Tiantan Park—the Temple of Heaven. I’ll meet you at the east gate.”

Her fear was returning. “No. Hang on a minute . . .”

But he wasn’t listening. “For God’s sake make sure you’re not followed. I’ll see you there in half an hour.” He hung up, and in the silence of the room she could hear her heart beating.

Li drove with the flow of traffic down Fuxingmennei Avenue towards the Gate of Heavenly Peace. Floodlit buildings on either side illuminated the way ahead. People had taken to the streets again to escape the heat of their homes. The sidewalks were crowded, families gathered beneath the trees on the south side. Li could see the tail-lights of vehicles stretching for miles ahead into the shimmering hazy night. Somewhere in the city Johnny Ren was patiently watching, awaiting further instructions. From whom? Deputy Procurator General Zeng would not be able to sleep for fear that Li had, perhaps, already begun to suspect his involvement. Somewhere, in some dark and secret place wherein power resided, a paymaster or paymasters must be trembling in fear of exposure. But exposure of what? Li’s ignorance seemed limitless. Whatever he knew, whatever they thought he knew, he felt a long way away from enlightenment.