Deceived (13 page)

"You don't
mean perquisites, you mean pay
offs
."

Rhodes smiled
frostily. "Characterize them any way you like, but remember, you're
applying American sensibilities to a very different culture with traditions
dating back thousands of years. A culture we are suddenly thrown into. It's
sink or swim. In China it is normal course, even polite, to extend
…
considerations."

"And in
this case, what were the
considerations
."

Rhodes ran a
hand through his hair before answering. "The Chinese placed certain
conditions on us. One being that we subcontract out some of the work."

"To
companies of your choosing?"

Rhodes looked
again to Morgan, who said cautiously, "Of course we always reserve the
right to subcontract out any of the work, at our discretion, but here the
Chinese were thinking a bit more specifically. They asked that we subcontract
out the turbine design work to Tremont."

Nick chewed
lightly on his tongue as he considered the information. "Did you suggest
to the Chinese that there might be better subcontractors to chose from?"

"We did. As
far as we were able to discern, Tremont Engineering had little expertise in the
field of hydroelectric project construction, but
…
well the Chinese were
quite insistent and when someone offers you an almost two billion dollar
contract, and there are only a few strings, you accept the strings
.

"Whether
the subcontractor was capable of performing the work or not?"

Morgan aimed a
pen at Nick as a teacher might a ruler. "There's nothing illegal or
unethical in what we did, Mr. Ford. Anything Tremont couldn't handle, we'd
assume responsibility for, out of our own pockets. That's what we planned, and
that's what we did. If someone got rich off the subcontracts, it wasn't
us."

Nick let the
comment pass and moved on. "How did you determine the payment to
Tremont?"

"They
submitted an estimate."

"Did you
negotiate it?"

"No,"
Morgan mumbled to the floor. "The Chinese made it clear we should accept
the bid as received."

Nick tapped the
end of a pencil on the table. He glanced at Meg, his head cocked, making it
clear to all that Morgan's answers did not sit well with him. Finally, Nick
asked, "You had no prior relationship with Tremont?"

"No,"
Rhodes answered earnestly.

"With
Andrew McKenzie or with any of Tremont's other officers or directors?"

"No."

"Received
no finder's fees, refunds, or other payments for subcontracting work to
them?"

"Absolutely
not," Rhodes declared, clearly offended by the implication. "Mr.
Ford, we've freely admitted to some instances of overbilling. As to other
allegations you have made against us, well, we both have our point of view, but
this business with Tremont, we've been candid with you, told you everything we
know."

"Then why,
Mr. Morgan, Mr. Rhodes"
—
Nick looked from one to the other
—
"why
do you think the Chinese insisted you hire Tremont? Why hire a company with no experience,
at a premium price?"

Morgan
developed a sudden interest in his watch band, leaving Rhodes to deal with the
question. "To tell you the truth," Rhodes confessed, "I never
cared to ask. But I'll give you the same advice I gave Mr. Johnson."

"What was
that?"

"I told him to pose the question to the president of Tremont,
Andrew McKenzie."

An hour later
Morgan's secretary escorted Nick and Meg to the elevator. When the door had
shut, Meg turned to Nick. "We're following in Scott's footsteps, aren't we
Nick? Pursuing the same path."

Nick nodded. "Where's
Tremont headquartered again?"

Meg shifted
some papers and read from her notes. "Birmingham, Alabama."

"Didn't
Scott say, when he called you, that he was on some sort of tour of Southern
cities?"

"Uh-huh."

Nick rubbed his
brow as he thought. Rhodes had told Scott to pose his questions to the
president of Tremont, Andrew McKenzie. Had Scott taken the advice?

"Meg,"
Nick said, "I'm going to need you tonight. I want you to get on the
computer and learn all you can about McKenzie and Tremont Engineering
…
I'll
give you a list of data bases to search. Clear tomorrow too. I think we'll be
taking another flight."

"Birmingham?"
Meg asked.

"Yeah."

"You think
Scott went there, to check out this Andrew McKenzie?"

"All I
know is Scott learned something, and we have to find out what. So far we've
just been sniffing around the edges. Maybe this McKenzie has answers, maybe
doesn't, but I think it's worth a flight to find out, don't you?"

Andrew McKenzie
took the turn into the parking space at twenty-five miles an hour. The BMW's
tires screeched, but held, something his old Pontiac would never have done. He
slammed on the brakes, stopped inches short of the curb. Shit, this was one
awesome machine. Nine months old, and he still hadn't gotten over it.

He turned off
the engine, reached for the door, then thought better of it and sunk back into
the bucket seat. He was wasted after a dozen, maybe more, drinks down at
Stillwaters. He'd made a stab at some hot number at the bar. He couldn't
remember her name, but she was damn cute. Poured into those tight jeans, with
mother-fucking kick ass tits
.

A few less
beers and maybe
—
no definitely
—
he would have made it with her. Maybe
she'd be back tomorrow, if not, maybe one of her friends would be
—
they
were all fuckable. At that age, almost all of them were
.

He turned up
the volume on the car stereo, already at three-quarters of its max. The car,
his clothes, his skin, reverberated with the low bases of heavy metal. Kick ass
tits and kick ass music, he thought, as he reached under the seat for the
half-pint of scotch he kept there. High, he planned to balance on the plateau
all night long if possible. Hell, he didn't have anything scheduled tomorrow
—
he
could get as fucked up as he wanted. The idea appealed to him.

Maybe he could
call someone? Sarah? No, that bitch wouldn't give him the time of day. Ginnie? Maybe.
If her boyfriend wasn't there, she'd come over. Man, it'd be good to get some
from Ginnie. He felt as horny as hell.

The half-pint
was almost empty, just some wash in the bottom. McKenzie swore to himself. He
kept more inside, but that meant he'd have to move. He turned off the car
stereo and opened the door. He rose unsteadily.

Fuck, that's
when it really hit you, when you stood. He steadied himself against the hood of
the car. A dozen deep breaths did nothing to clear his mind. Maybe Ginnie would
have to wait
—
suddenly bed didn't sound like such a bad idea.

McKenzie made
his way up the walkway. He fumbled with his keys, dropped them, recovered them,
and finally found the key hole. Once in the elevator he pushed the button for
the eighth floor before slumping against the wall. Now that he had the car, the
next thing on his list was a new pad. When he'd moved in it hadn't seemed so
bad, but that was two years ago, and things had changed dramatically since
then. He could now afford much, much better.

Christ, maybe
he should move into the Birmingham hills
—
something near the country
club. He'd buy the kind of place he belonged in; the kind of place he deserved.

McKenzie swung
open the door to his apartment; his hand went for the light switch. A look at
the place confirmed his thinking. "
A fucking dump
," he yelled
to no one.

He remembered
the remains of a steak in the refrigerator. He could go for that. Why, he
wondered, did drinking, drugs, sex
—
all the good things in life
—
make
you hungry?

He walked into
the kitchen and flipped on the light. Two Asian men in dark suits sat at the
kitchen table, one stout, a bit fleshy, the other not much taller but powerful
with heavy brows and features.

McKenzie,
startled, stumbled back against the wall. "Jesus
…
," he
started.

"McKenzie,"
said Li calmly. "My name is Li. I am a business partner of Deputy
Ambassador Jiang's."

The even voice
took the edge off McKenzie's surprise and he fought to regain his composure. With
the realization neither man had yet to make an aggressive move, he found his
confidence and voice. "What the hell are you doing in my house?"

Li's answer
came matter-of-factly. "You were told someone would come, if they needed
to
…
if you didn't hold up your end of the bargain."

McKenzie
suddenly wished he was not so fucked up
—
his mind was working too slowly
to give him a feel for the situation and his body could not be counted on if
things got physical. Trying to sound sober, in control, he said, "I deal
directly with the deputy ambassador, not a couple of his lackeys. Now get
out."

Li shook his
head decisively. "Deputy Ambassador Jiang has been
…
reassigned. You
will deal with
me
or I shall instruct my associate"
—
Li
gestured to his side, at Pu-Yi
—
"to deal with
you
."

 McKenzie
backed down, averted his eyes to the floor
—
what choice did he have? "You
scared the shit out of me, you know. I've only dealt with Jiang, no one
else." He looked up at the wall clock, his voice moving to anger. "It's
one-thirty in the fucking morning. Say what you came to say and get out."

Li sat
silently, motionless; his eyes continued to bore into McKenzie's. Then he said,
"nice car."

McKenzie didn't
answer; his mind whirred.

Li repeated his
comment, breaking McKenzie's train of thought. "
Real
nice
car."

Liquor dulled
the apprehension McKenzie felt. They needed him, gotta remember that. Nothing
to be worried about. "
goddamn right it is
."

"
…
And
expensive," Li added, after a pause.

"I can
afford it."

"Of course
you can
…
but I am under the impression you and the deputy ambassador
agreed to certain restrictions on your lifestyle."

 A lecture? At
one-thirty in the morning? McKenzie was not in the mood. "Shit, so it's a
nice car? What, you want me to drive around in a fucking ghetto cruiser the
rest of my life?"

Li's smile held
no warmth. "Cars like that attract attention."

McKenzie
ignored the comment and moved for the liquor bottles under the sink. Why the
hell did he have to put up with this shit? His life was his life. What the hell
did they care; they had gotten their share, hadn't they? If he wanted to ride
things out in style, so what?

McKenzie poured
himself some scotch and took a stiff drink before continuing. "I don't
give a damn if you've got a problem with my car."

Pu-Yi stood. His
right hand wrapped into a fist; the muscles of his forearm bunched
.

"What
other things have you bought?" Li asked.

"You want
an itemized list?" McKenzie said, not quite as confident this time. "Look
around you, see the palace I'm living in? Like a king
…
I'm living like a
fucking king, right?"

"You've
had too much to drink."

"No
shit." McKenzie lifted his glass and took another healthy gulp. "Now
what are you doing here?"

"I am
under the impression you were told to wait to buy anything until the
subcontract was awarded, then use restraint. And you were supposed to keep up
appearances at work, put in eight hour days, hire additional staff. You agreed
to this. A contract
…
a matter of honor."

"So I
lied, sue me. In the meantime, get to the reason for your visit, or get out. I
don't like people breaking into my house in the middle of the night."

"Our
business association is now over. You were warned."

Pu-Yi took a
step forward, his eyes flashing violence, and alarm bells screamed in
McKenzie's mind. "Hey
…
just wait a minute."

Pu-Yi pulled a
handgun from his pocket and pointed it at McKenzie's chest
.

"The rules
were clear," Li said.

McKenzie eyes
went wide. He had a gun in his bedroom night table
—
too far away. Fuck
it, this wasn't turning out the way he envisioned at all. He choked out his
words. "You're screwing with my mind, right?"

"No."

"The car? Man,
it's just a car,
that's all it is
. No one's gonna notice."

"People
have
already
noticed. They'll come, they'll ask questions. You have
attracted attention, Mr. McKenzie. We can't have that. "

McKenzie backed
up, his mind racing, searching for a line of retreat. "Okay, okay. So
maybe I did screw up a bit. I admit that. I'll sell the car. Play things straight,
any way you want."

Li paused for a
moment, then stood and placed a hand on Pu-Yi's arm. The arm lowered, the gun
went with it.

"One more
chance, McKenzie," Li said. "I am not the deputy ambassador
…I
expect
complete
cooperation. Will I have it?"

"Yes."

"Good,
because I think you know what will happen if I don't." Li circled
McKenzie. "Do you know a man named Scott Johnson?"

McKenzie shook
his head. "No."

"Are you
sure? Young, thin, black hair, works for the General Accounting Office in
Washington."

Li now stood
behind McKenzie, but McKenzie kept his eyes forward, focused on the powerfully
built man with the gun. "I'm sure," he said nervously.

"Funny,
because I have it on good authority that Johnson was here, in Birmingham,
investigating you. And I also have reason to believe he didn't leave empty
handed. In fact I'm quite sure he didn't leave empty handed because a few days
later he was some place he shouldn't have been. Now what I'm curious to know
from you, Mr. McKenzie, is what did Johnson learn and how."

What the
hell was the man talking about?
"I have no idea."

"C'mon,
Mr. McKenzie. Did you get drunk, maybe say something at a bar you shouldn't
have? Or do you keep records
…
secret records of our operation that
Johnson could have somehow gotten his hands on? Or maybe you just decided to
talk to save your own skin?"

McKenzie kept
his eyes from shifting to the kitchen closet.
Was it possible, could this
Johnson have somehow broken into the apartment, found what was hidden there?
"None
of those things happened. Believe me, I've played things by the book."

"Don't
insult me, McKenzie." Li smashed his free hand on the table for emphasis. "You
broke your word once, and after knowing you for all of five minutes, I am
convinced you are capable of doing it again. Please cooperate, or," Li
shrugged and gestured again to Pu-Yi, "I'm sure my associate would be
happy to resort to alternative methods of persuasion."

McKenzie backed
against the wall. "Man, you don't need to do that. Really. If I had
anything to tell you, I would."

Pu-Yi started
toward McKenzie; hate shone from his eyes.

"You have
your goon touch me, and I'll go to the police," McKenzie wailed. "I'll
take you down; I'll take the operation down."

Li shook his
head slowly. "That would be a very bad mistake. Pu-Yi, tell our friend
what happened to the last man who threatened to run to the police."

Pu-Yi smiled;
flashed a set of uneven teeth. "I removed his feet
…
with a hack
saw," he said.

"Needless
to say," Li added with a sarcastic grin, "the man didn't run far. I
think it would be better if you cooperated with us."

McKenzie's eyes
darted.

"Mr.
McKenzie, my patience is wearing thin. Let me make something clear to you. You
tell me what I want to know, and when I walk out of this apartment, you're
alive. You don't, and
…
I think you know what happens. You have ten
seconds, I'll count them out. When I reach ten, you're out of options. One,
two, three
…
"

"I swear
to God, I've never met a Scott Johnson."

"Four,
five
…
"

"I didn't
talk to anyone. No one."

Pu-Yi raised
the handgun, aimed the barrel at McKenzie's chest.

"Six,
seven, eight
…
"

"You've
got to believe me."

"Nine, t
—
"

"All
right." McKenzie raised a hand. "It's the only thing I can think of,
but maybe
…
You were right. I did keep some records hidden here. As
insurance
…
that's all. In case you guys didn't live up to your side of
the bargain. But I've given them to no one. This Johnson would have had to
break in here, and
—
"

"Where are
they," Li demanded.

"In the
closet," McKenzie said hurriedly, pointing.

"Get
it."

McKenzie opened
the closet; it's shelves lined with canned and packaged food. He removed a shoe
box from the top shelf and set it on the table.

Pu-Yi opened
the box and pulled a computer disk from it. He handed it to Li
.

"This is
the only copy?" Li asked, inspecting the disk.

"Yes."

"You're
not lying again, are you?"

"No, I
swear to God, that's it."

"And
you've told no one else about our little operation? You've never met Scott
Johnson or told anyone about this computer disk?

"I
swear."

Li bobbed his
head once. "I believe you. Johnson must have broken in. You made his job
very easy. A shoe box, Mr. McKenzie? Something this valuable and you hid it in
a shoebox on a closet shelf?"

McKenzie said
nothing, and Li shrugged. "And now it's time I kept my promise. I walk out
of this apartment with you still alive." Li tucked the computer disk into
his suit pocket, then turned to Pu-Yi. "Stay with our friend, Pu-Yi. Keep
him company."

Li walked
toward the door.

"Hey, wait
a minute," McKenzie yelled, taking a step forward only to have the barrel
of Pu-Yi's gun rammed in his chest. "I gave you what you wanted. I told
the truth."

Li opened the
door. "Good-bye, Mr. McKenzie."

Pu-Yi chuckled
as Li closed the door. "You're a stupid son-of-a-bitch, McKenzie. You know
that?"

McKenzie's stomach tightened. No, he wasn't that stupid, but what
choice had he had? And what choice did he have now? He sprang forward in
desperation, one hand aimed for Pu-Yi's throat, the other for the gun in
Pu-Yi's hand.