Necropolis

white material, like surgeons, so that only their eyes showed. Was the air really that bad? She sniffed a couple of times but couldn't detect anything wrong. On the other hand, the air in the car was almost certainly being filtered. The same was true of the office. The windows here were over an inch thick, cutting out all the noise and the smells of outside.
    "It's quite a sight, isn't it?"
    Scarlett turned round. A man had crept up on her without making any sound. He was a European, about sixty, with white hair and thin, silver glasses and, although he was smiling, trying to be friendly, she found herself recoiling from him… as if he were a spider or a poisonous snake. There was something very unnatural about the man. He had clearly had a lot of work done to his face — Botox or plastic surgery
    — but there was a dead quality to his flesh. His eyes were a very pale blue, so pale that they had almost no color at all.
    This was the chairman of the Nightrise Corporation. It had to be. He was wearing an expensive suit, white shirt, and red tie. Very successful people have a way of walking, pushing forward as if they expect the world to get out of the way, and that was how he was walking now. He had a deep, throaty voice —
    he could have been a heavy smoker — and spoke with a faint American accent. There was a silver band on the middle finger of his left hand. Not the wedding finger. Scarlett somehow doubted that he would be married. Who in their right mind would choose to live with such a man?
    "It's all right," Scarlett said.
    The chairman seemed disappointed by her reaction.

    "There is no greater city on the planet," he muttered. He pointed out of the window. "That's Kowloon.
    Some people say that the best reason to go there is to admire the views back again, but there are many museums and temples to enjoy too. You can take the Star Ferry over the water. The crossing is quite an experience, although it is one I have never enjoyed."
    "Do you get seasick?"
    "No." He shook his head. "When I was twelve years old, a fortune-teller predicted that I would be killed in an incident involving a boat. I'm sure you will think me foolish, but I am very superstitious. It is something I have in common with the Chinese. They believe in luck as a force, almost like a spirit. This building, for example, had to be built in a certain way, with the main door slanting at an angle and mirrors placed at crucial points, according to the principals of feng shui. Otherwise, it would be considered unlucky. And you see over there?" He pointed to a factory complex on the other side of the water, in Kowloon. "How many chimneys does it have?"
    Scarlett counted. "Five."
    "It has four real chimneys. The extra one is fake. It is there because 'four' is the Chinese word for death
    — but on the other hand, they believe that five brings good luck. Do you see? They take these things very seriously, and so do I. As a result, I have never been close to the water and I have certainly never stepped on a boat."
    He gestured at a low, leather sofa opposite his desk. "Please. Come and sit down."
    Scarlett did as she was told. He came over and joined her.
    "It's a great pleasure to meet you, Scarlett," he said. 'Your father told me a lot about you."
    "Where is my father?"
    "I'm afraid I owe you an apology. I'm sure you were disappointed that he wasn't here to meet you. The fact is that we had a sudden crisis in Nanjing."
    "Is that in China?"
    'Yes. There was a legal problem that needed our immediate attention. Obviously, we didn't want to send him. But your father is very good at his job, and there was no one else."
    "When will he be back?"
    "It shouldn't be more than a week."

    "A week?" Scarlett was shocked. "Can I talk to him?" she asked.
    The chairman sighed. "That may not be very easy. There are some parts of China that have very bad communications. The landlines are down because of recent flooding, and there are whole areas where there's no reception for mobile phones. I'm sure he will try to call you. But it may take some time."
    "So what am I supposed to do?" Scarlett asked. She didn't even try to keep the annoyance out of her voice.
    "I want you to enjoy yourself," the chairman said. "Mrs. Cheng will be staying with you until your father returns, and Karl will drive you wherever you want to go. There are plenty of things to do in Hong Kong. Shopping, of course. Mrs. Cheng has the necessary funds. There's a Disneyland out on Lantau.
    We have