Tristan eyed his watch nervously in the dim tunnel light. “Damn!” he said. “It’s going to be close if Captain Fa-Huang weighs anchor at six sharp.”

Marissa closed her eyes. She felt numb, as if nothing that was happening were real.

The enforcer looked over his desk at the hit man. The tension between them was natural for two experts in the same small field. They each knew that the other did similar things, just in different worlds. Mr. Yip thought that Ned was a crude barbarian. Ned thought Mr. Yip was a hoon poofter in a white suit.

They were sitting in the same office where Mr. Yip had Marissa and Tristan brought on their first meeting. Willy was outside with some of Mr. Yip’s men.

“I trust that Mr. Pang rang you,” Ned said.

“He did indeed,” Mr. Yip said. “But he only said that we were to do business. He said that it involved dealing with a couple, for which you were to pay the Wing Sin one hundred and fifty thousand Hong Kong dollars. He did not provide further details.”

“It is a man and a woman,” Ned said. “One Australian, the other American. Late thirties for the man, early thirties for the woman. Their names are Tristan Williams and Marissa Blumenthal. They’re staying at the Peninsula Hotel, but that may soon change.”

Mr. Yip smiled to himself, realizing immediately that the Wing Sin was about to profit from both sides of a conflict. “This is a coincidence,” he said. “I’m sure that the couple that you are describing have been here to see me in this very office.”

“For what reason?” Ned asked.

“They paid me for information,” Mr. Yip said. “They were interested in the people we have been smuggling out of the PRC for Fertility, Limited.”

Ned shifted nervously in his seat. “And what were they told?”

“Very little, I can assure you,” Mr. Yip said. “The Wing Sin has never bothered to interfere in Fertility, Limited, business. So,” continued Mr. Yip, “how much is in this for me?”

Accustomed to doing business in Hong Kong and with the Wing Sin in particular, Ned was not surprised by this direct request for squeeze. “The usual ten percent,” he said.

“The usual is fifteen,” Mr. Yip said with a smile.

“Done,” Ned said.

“It is a delight to do business with someone accustomed to our ways,” Mr. Yip said. “And we are in luck. The couple in question is scheduled to leave this afternoon on a Tanka junk to make one of the Fertility, Limited, pickups. That will make the deed extremely easy and efficient. The bodies can be dropped into the sea. Very neat.”

Ned pulled his sleeve back to look at his watch. “What time are they leaving?” he asked.

“Around six,” Mr. Yip said. He got up from his chair. “I think we’d better leave immediately.”

A few minutes later they found themselves stuck in traffic.