“Tomorrow. She’s done enough damage.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Wu replied.

A chime, indicating that his boss had clicked off.

The silence was heavy after the playback ended.

“This call was made two days ago, after Dr. Nataraj’s interview had broadcasted,” Lingyi said. “It’s no coincidence.”

Arun dropped his head into his hands, his knee jittering. His grief and fury were palpable. I sat beside him, feeling useless, impotent.

“We were so close to finding out that asshole’s identity,” Iris said. She sat casually on the ground with her arms propped over raised knees, but her shoulders were tensed into a straight line. “It’s my fault. . . .”

Lingyi reached down and gripped Iris’s shoulder. “No, it isn’t. I had sent you on another task for a few days.”

Iris had been shadowing Dr. Nataraj since our meeting at the karaoke joint a few weeks ago. But nothing suspicious had happened again . . . until yesterday.

“It’s the killer’s fault, Iris,” I said. “And whoever is behind this.”

She shot me a murderous look and jerked her arm so Lingyi dropped her hand.

Lingyi colored and cleared her throat. “There’s more,” she said, and her voice cracked. “When his secretary opened his office door, there was some background noise. . . .”

I nodded. We had all heard it.

“I analyzed it using Clarity—it’s the best voice-analysis program out there.” Her eyes flicked to Victor—he must have gotten it for her. “Listen.”

There was a faint crackling, then a woman’s voice spoke, almost in a hiss. But what she said was clear: “Ladies and gentlemen, we are honored for your visit today. The next official tour of Jin Corp will begin in five minutes at four p.m. in the lobby.”

Jin Corp. I felt a cold sweat break at the back of my neck. The company that manufactured you suits for all the rich people who wanted to live life in a self-contained bubble while the world went to rot around them. These suits were sold worldwide, but only about 5 percent of the population could afford the twenty-million-yuan price tag.

“I knew I recognized that voice,” I said.

We didn’t look at each other. All of us were thinking the same thing.

Jin Feiming was the richest and most powerful man in Taiwan. He owned half of Taipei. And he had ordered Arun’s mom killed like she was an annoying pest, a mosquito buzzing in his ear. He could kill each of us just as easily, making them look like accidental deaths. Nobody would care. Lingyi might garner some attention, being the daughter of the disgraced CEO of Fortune Securities, but even then, a week’s worth of headlines, at best.

“What can we do?” Arun finally asked after a long silence. “Jin can get what little evidence we have dismissed. He’d buy his way out of this easily. We’d never get a conviction.”