I made the pretense of kissing her cheek, but stopped short as my mouth was full and that seemed rude. She laughed, shaking her head. Dr. Nataraj had a way of making you feel special, like she saw you, and that you mattered. We both knew she’d made takeaway packages for everyone there. Arun was so lucky.

The ancient karaoke set was playing its music on a large box television, just loud enough to drown out our conversation for anyone listening at the door. A young man and woman danced alone in a sunlit ballroom, gazing lovingly at each other as the lyrics scrolled across the bottom half of the screen. There were no windows, and the only light came from another cheap chandelier that hung over the seating area. Two plastic-covered menus were thrown haphazardly onto the low, black table in front of us beside the plate of samosas.

The room stank of stale cigarette smoke.

Dr. Nataraj didn’t begin until she met each of our eyes, knowing she had our full attention. She was a prominent professor in ecology at National Taiwan University. Not only was she well respected in the field as an educator, she was also a vocal activist, tirelessly trying to get the government to pass more restrictive pollution laws in Taiwan to help clean our filthy air and dirty waters.

“I’m sure that Arun has told you there’s been no progress. I have approached six officials who are part of the legislative yuan and have been stonewalled, met with silence, or had doors slammed in my face.” She spoke perfect Mandarin, tinged with the lilt of her native Hindi. It didn’t matter that she was dressed in jeans and a black sweater—her presence, her poise, commanded your attention. “I was even escorted out by security twice!” Dr. Nataraj let out a soft laugh. “Me, thrown out by burly guards because I’m such a threat.”

She sank into the sofa and folded her hands in her lap. “It’s clear that someone very powerful doesn’t want the legislation to ever be presented. I appreciate all your help so far in being my eyes and ears. I didn’t want to break any laws, but I have a feeling whoever we are going up against has no such qualms.” She paused, then turned toward Lingyi and me. “I think my communication is being monitored.”

Iris straightened and Arun’s knee jittered with nervous tension.

“Written communication?” Victor asked.

“And voice,” Dr. Nataraj said. “Anything going through my phones or computers.”

“Have these people left any threatening messages?” I asked. “Any clues at all?”

“No,” she said. “They’re pros. And I have no evidence other than my intuition.” She gripped her hands tighter, tight enough that the knuckles turned white. “I was almost run over twice this week.”

I leaned forward, meeting Victor’s eyes; he was still draped haphazardly in the armchair, but his jaw had tightened.