“I don’t know.” Dr. Nataraj looked straight into the camera. “But when I find out, I’ll have no qualms about exposing them. This is no longer about business, politics, or profit; it’s no longer a matter of health; it is a matter of our very survival.”

The image froze on-screen, with Dr. Nataraj’s expression imploring yet intense, her elegant hands held before her, as if literally pleading with the audience.

“Why was this playing?” I twisted toward Arun, drawing a shaky breath.

“This interview aired yesterday afternoon.” Arun stooped beside his mom again and touched her slack arm, the one clenching the control. “She never watched her interviews on-screen.” Even as he spoke, the program rebooted again to start from the beginning of the show. He glanced up, the whites of his eyes standing out in his face. We were both thinking the same thing: Dr. Nataraj had been murdered.

Arun swiped a hand over his eyes. In that instant, he looked like he had aged ten years. He tugged his Palm from his vest pocket.

“Are you calling the police?” I asked.

“We can’t,” he said. “We can’t go to the police. What proof do we have?”

I cursed. After meeting with Dr. Nataraj, Lingyi had managed to hack into a Taichung legislator’s account, finding a message between him and a “Mr. Wu.” Since then, she had extracted five more similar exchanges with other legislators Dr. Nataraj had tried to meet. All with the same veiled threats, all with the hint of large bribes if they obeyed. Still, we weren’t any closer to discovering who was behind Mr. Wu’s work. And now Arun’s mom was dead.

“Hey, Arun.” Lingyi’s cheery voice carried through his Palm. “What’s up?”

Arun opened his mouth, then clamped it shut. Tears streamed down his face; his throat worked.

I looked away, feeling a hot pressure behind my own eyes. “Lingyi, we have to meet,” I said. “Something’s happened.”

A pause. Then she replied, “Tomorrow morning? My apartment?”

“Yes,” I said.

It had all seemed harmless before, working with Dr. Nataraj. To help someone we loved and respected. To help the meis, to save Taiwan. Playing the good guys. Now, with Dr. Nataraj’s calculated murder, it was obvious we were screwed—up against professional criminals who were older, wiser, better funded. We could be the ones suffering an “accidental” death next.

“Done.” Lingyi’s voice floated to me. “See you tomorrow.” A soft chime; she had clicked off.

Arun was holding his mom again in his arms, rocking her. I clenched my jaw.

“Let’s get the assholes who did this,” I said.

He raised his head and jerked his chin in agreement.

No. We wouldn’t let the bastards get away with this.

•  •  •