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He watched curiously to see what would happen. A moment later she had passed the group, without it looking as though she had simply walked through. Rather, one of the Japanese seemed to have melted away for a moment to let her by.

Irked, Jericho took off the specs.

Nothing had changed except that Yoyo had vanished. He put them back on again, fought his way through the groups and saw Yoyo a little further on. Standing on the street. She looked across at him and waved.

‘What are you waiting for? Come on!’

Jericho took a few steps. Yoyo waited until he drew level with her, and then she set off. Incredible! How did the trick work? He would hardly be able to understand it without an explanation, so he concentrated on trying to catch the program out. From a purely factual perspective, the programmers had done good work. The tour was well researched and thoroughly plotted. So far, everything Yoyo had told him was right.

‘Yoyo—’ he began.

‘Yes?’ Her glance showed amiable interest.

‘How long have you had this job?’

‘This route is completely new,’ she answered evasively.

‘Not long, then?’

‘No.’

‘And what are you doing tonight?’

She stopped and gave him a smile, sweet as sugar.

‘Is that an offer?’

‘I’d like to invite you for a meal.’

‘Pardon me for refusing, but I only have a virtual stomach.’

‘Would you like to go dancing with me?’

‘I would very much like to.’

‘Great. Where shall we go?’

‘I said I would like to.’ She winked. ‘Sadly, I can’t.’

‘May I ask you something else?’

‘Go right ahead.’

‘Will you go to bed with me?’

She hesitated for a moment. The smile gave way to a look of mocking good humour.

‘You’d be disappointed.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I don’t actually exist.’

‘Get undressed, Yoyo.’

‘I could put something else on.’ The smile came back. ‘Would you like me to put something else on?’

‘I want to sleep with you.’

‘You’d be disappointed.’

‘I want to have sex with you.’

‘You’re on your own there, Owen.’

Aha.

This was definitely not the official version.

‘Can we visit the studios?’ he asked, repeating the earlier question.

‘We can visit the studios. Would you like to?’

‘Who programmed you, Yoyo?’

‘I was programmed by Tu Technologies.’

‘Are you a person?’

‘I’m a person.’

‘I hate you, Yoyo.’

‘I’m very sorry to hear that.’ She paused. ‘Would you like to continue the tour?’

‘You’re a silly, ugly goose.’

‘I do my best to please. Your tone is not appropriate.’

‘Pardon me.’

‘No need. It was probably my mistake.’

‘Slapper.’

‘Asshole.’

‘Yoyo is pretty much in demand, isn’t she?’

Grand Cherokee gave Xin a knowing wink as his fingers swept across the smooth surface of the steering deck. One by one, he let the computer check the Silver Dragon’s systems. It promised to be a perfect day for a roller-coaster ride, sunny and clear, so that despite the omnipresent blanket of smog passengers would still be able to see such distant buildings as the Shanghai Regent or the Portman Ritz Carlton. The skyscraper façades reflected the early morning light. Tiny suns came and went on the bodywork of the skymobiles that swept in graceful curves above the Huangpu. Away from the shore, Shanghai blurred together into the vague suggestion of a city, but on the other side of the river the colonial relics of the Bund stood out all the more clearly in a brightly coloured row of palaces.

Grand Cherokee had met Xin in the Sky Lobby and chattered incessantly in the lift on the way up about what a signal honour it was to be allowed to enter the dragon’s lair right at this moment. For all that, he told Xin, the track itself wasn’t
especially interesting, not considered as a roller-coaster as such: hardly any upside-down stretches, just one classic vertical loop with a heartline roll either side, well, that meant that there were three zero-g points all in all, but basically it was nothing special. Rather, he went on as they walked through the empty glass corridor, the thrill of the thing lay in its speed, combined with the fact of zooming about half a kilometre above the ground. As he opened up the control room and they went in, he kept up his monologue: this masterpiece of adrenalin was one of a kind, worldwide, controlling the ride needed good nerves, just like riding in it, you needed to be a strong personality to tame the dragon.

‘Interesting,’ Xin had said. ‘Show me then. What exactly do you have to do?’

This was when Grand Cherokee stopped for a moment. He was accustomed to seeing reality through the distorting mirror of his own inflated ego, but this last remark got through even to him, and he was suddenly rattled. In fact controlling the ride was perfectly straightforward. Any idiot capable of touching three control boxes on a screen could do it. He stammered out something about irony and hyperbole, and showed Xin the controls, telling him that all he really needed to do was clear the safety checks, which meant knowing the security codes.

‘There are three of them,’ he told Xin. ‘I just put them in one after another – like that – then number two – three – done. System’s ready. So now I activate this field on the top right, which unlocks the carriages, this box below starts the catapult, and the program does the rest. This one underneath is the emergency stop. We’ve never needed it though.’

‘And what’s this for?’ Xin pointed to a menu along the upper edge of the screen.

‘That’s the check assistant. Before I set the ride in motion, I let the computer run through a set of parameters. Mechanical systems, programs.’

‘Simple really.’

‘Simple, but clever.’

‘Almost a pity that we won’t have the chance for a ride, but my time is short. I’d like to—’

‘In principle, you could climb in,’ said Grand Cherokee and began the check. ‘I’ll give you such a ride that you won’t know which way to stand up when you climb out. I’d have to register it as an unscheduled ride though.’

‘Don’t bother. Let’s talk about Yoyo.’

This was the point when Grand Cherokee grinned at his visitor and made the crack about Yoyo being pretty much in demand. He wanted to add something, but stopped. Something had changed in the other man’s face. There was curiosity there now, not just about where Yoyo might be but about Grand Cherokee himself.

‘Who else is interested in her?’ Xin asked.

‘No idea.’ Grand Cherokee shrugged. Should he play his trump card already? He had wanted to use the detective to put a little pressure on Xin, but perhaps it was better to play him on the line for a while. ‘That’s what you said.’

‘Said what?’

‘Yoyo needed protection because someone was after her.’

‘True.’ Xin inspected the fingernails on his right hand. Grand Cherokee noticed that they were perfectly manicured, all filed down to exactly the same length, the crescents the colour of mother-of-pearl. ‘And you were going to find things out, Wang. Telephone some people, and so on. Bring me to Yoyo. As I remember it, money changed hands. So what do you have for me?’

Pompous arsehole, thought Grand Cherokee. In fact he’d thought up a story the night before. It was all based on a remark that Yoyo had made about the party lifestyle getting on her nerves, that she wanted to go to Hangzhou and the West Lake for a weekend. His grandmother had always spouted clichés and proverbs, and wasn’t one of them that Hangzhou was the image of Heaven here on Earth? Grand Cherokee had decided that that was where Yoyo could be found, in some romantic little hotel on the West Lake, and the hotel might be called—

Wait though, he shouldn’t be too specific. There were all sorts of places to stay right around the lake shores, for every sort of price. Just to be sure, he had done an internet search and found several named after trees or flowers. He liked that. Yoyo’s retreat would be a hotel with a flowery name! Something with a flower, but sadly his contact (who didn’t exist anyway) couldn’t quite remember what. He hadn’t been able to find out more than that for the money, but it was something, wasn’t it? Grand Cherokee had laughed out loud at the thought of Xin travelling 170 kilometres to the West Lake to check out every hotel with a botanical name, especially since he planned to send the detective out to the same place. Those two fools wouldn’t notice, but they would constantly be crossing paths. For a bit more money, he could also mention the motorbike mob, a completely different lead, since after all the City Demons had little or nothing to do with West Lake. On the other hand, a motorbike trip out to the countryside? Why not?

Xin was lost in contemplation of his fingernails. Grand Cherokee considered. Soon enough he’d be spinning the same line to Jericho, through there he ran the risk that the detective might be less generous.

And there was still a chance.

‘You know,’ he said slowly and as neutrally as he could manage, ‘I’ve been thinking about it.’ He finished the check for the Silver Dragon and looked at Xin. ‘And I think you could pay a bit more to find out where Yoyo is.’

Xin didn’t look especially surprised. Instead he looked exhausted, as though he’d been waiting for the penny to drop.

‘How much?’ he asked.

‘Ten times.’

Shocked at his own daring, Grand Cherokee felt his heart beat faster. If Xin swallowed
that
—

Wait a moment. It could get even better!

‘Ten times,’ he repeated, ‘and another meeting.’

Xin’s expression turned to stone.

‘What’s this about?’

What’s it about? thought Grand Cherokee. Simple enough, you varnished monkey. I’ll take the money and run off to Jericho, and give him a choice. Either he tops your offer and gets the exclusive story, or he turns me down, and you get it. But not until I’ve spoken to Jericho. And if Jericho coughs up twenty times as much, then we’ll try you for thirty times.

‘Yes or no?’ he asked.

The corners of Xin’s mouth lifted, almost imperceptibly. ‘Which movie have you got this from, Wang?’

‘I don’t need to watch any movies. You’re after Yoyo, I couldn’t care less why. I find it much more interesting that the cops want something from her as well. Conclusion: you’re obviously not a cop. Meaning that you can’t do anything to me. You have to take what you can get, and’ – he bowed, and bared his teeth – ‘when you can get it.’

Xin looked around, his smile frozen. Then he glanced at the control panel.

‘Do you know what I hate?’ he asked.

‘Me?’ said Grand Cherokee, laughing.

‘You’re vermin, Wang, hatred is too good for you. No, I hate spots. Those greasy fingers of yours have left nasty smears all over the display.’

‘So?’

‘Clean them up.’

‘Do what?’

‘Clean up those greasy smears.’

‘Listen here, you designer-suited piece of shit, what exactly do you think—’

Something odd happened then, something Grand Cherokee had never experienced before. It was quick as lightning, and when it was over, he was lying on the floor in front of the control panel, and his nose felt as though a grenade had exploded in it. Flashes of colour sparked in front of his eyes.

‘Your face wouldn’t do very well to keep things clean,’ said Xin, then reached
down and pulled Grand Cherokee to his feet like a puppet. ‘Oh, you look dreadful. What happened to your nose? Shall we talk?’

Grand Cherokee staggered and put a hand on the console to steady himself. He felt his face with the other hand. His forehead appliqué fell into the palm of his hand. He looked at Xin, nonplussed.

Then he swung at him, enraged.

Xin languidly poked him in the sternum.

It was as though somebody had unhooked all systems in the lower half of Grand Cherokee’s body. He fell to one knee while a gout of pain shot through his chest. His mouth opened, and he made choking sounds. Xin squatted down and supported him with his right arm before he could collapse.

‘It’ll pass soon,’ he said. ‘I know, for a while you think you’ll never be able to talk again. Wrong though. Generally speaking, people actually find it easier to talk after they’ve had that done to them. What did you want to say?’

Grand Cherokee gasped. His lips formed a word.

‘Yoyo?’ Xin nodded. ‘A good start. Try your best, Wang, and above all’ – he took him under the arms and heaved him up – ‘get to your feet.’

‘Yoyo is—’ panted Grand Cherokee.

‘Where?’

‘In Hangzhou.’

‘Hangzhou?’ Xin raised his eyebrows. ‘Mercy me. Do you actually know something? Where in Hangzhou?’

‘In – a hotel.’

‘Name?’

‘No idea.’ Grand Cherokee sucked in greedy lungfuls of air. Xin was right. The pain passed, but he didn’t feel in the least bit better for it. ‘Something with flowers.’

‘Don’t make things so complicated,’ Xin said mildly. ‘Something with flowers is about as specific as somewhere in China.’

‘Might have been something with trees, even,’ Grand Cherokee yelped. ‘My informant said flowers.’

‘In Hangzhou?’

‘On the West Lake.’

‘Where on the West Lake? On the city side?’

‘Yes, yes!’

‘On the western shore then?’

‘That’s it.’

‘Aha! Maybe near the Su dam?’

‘The – I think so.’ Grand Cherokee felt a glimmer of hope. ‘Probably Yes, that’s what he said.’

‘But the city is on the eastern shore.’

‘P-perhaps I didn’t quite hear.’ The glimmer died away.

‘But near the Su dam? Or the Bai dam?

Bai dam? Su dam? It was becoming ever more complicated. Where were these dams anyway? Grand Cherokee hadn’t thought about it all that much. Who the hell expected all these questions?

‘I don’t know,’ he said feebly.

‘I thought your informant—’

‘I just don’t know!’

Xin looked at him reproachfully. Then he jabbed his fingers into Grand Cherokee’s kidney region.

The effect was indescribable. Grand Cherokee opened and closed his mouth rapidly like a fish snatched from the water, while his eyes opened wide. Xin held him in an iron grip to stop him from collapsing again. For all that the surveillance cameras could see, they were standing side by side like old friends.