The Project 01 - White Jade

going to ask you the same thing. "
    " You know it was Wu who set up Connor? "
    " Yes. "
    " We have a computer belonging to Connor. We hoped it would give us leads. All we got were business reports, financial info and a draft proposal for work in China . "
    " What kind of work in China ? "
    " An archeological dig. Connor wanted to fund it and get permission to dig in return. "
    " Can you get that financial info to me? "
    " First thing tomorrow. I wanted to ask if you found anything in Connor ' s office. "
    " Not much. Just the kind of things you 'd expect. Lots of financial records. "
    " Any keys? Safe deposit keys? "
    " We did find some keys. "
    " And? "
    " W e got warrants to open the boxes, but there wasn ' t anything helpful. Some antique jewelry, diamonds, sapphires, gold coins, bearer bonds, that sort of thing. Just your average billionaire ' s little treasures. "
    " Do I detect a note of judgmental envy? "
    " Nah, everyone should have something set aside for a rainy day. "
    Nick said, " Zeke . If there ' s something going on we don't know about it might help if you guys came clean. About Wu. "
    S ilence. Then, " Off the record? "
    " Yes. "
    " When Harker asked about Wu it dovetailed with an ongoing investigation. You know about the Chinese criminal underworld here in the States? The Triads ? Also known as the Black Societies? "
    " I know the Mafia are newcomers compared to them. "
    " Yeah . The T riad oaths make the Mafia Code of Silence look like a radio talk show. T hey ' re planning something and Wu is mixed up in it .
    " Wu met with them at least three times. H e ' s up to his eyeballs in the murder of Connor and you say Chinese thugs tried to grab his niece. Seems like more than a coincidence. "
    " We didn ' t know about the Triads . " Carter paused. " We might have a lead. I'm going to follow up on it. "
    " There ' s always a lead, sooner or later. Can you let me know wh at you find out ? "
    " Subject to Harker's wishes, yes. Maybe off the record. "
    " Okay . Let ' s stay in touch. Nice talking with you. "
    " Likewise. " Carter broke the connection .
    H e went over the conversation in his mind. The Bureau had told Harker nothing when she requested their files on Wu. Now he knew there was a connection between the Triads and Colonel Wu, and by extension General Yang.
    If the book was at Connor ' s country place tomorrow, some questions might get answered. He hit the rack and fell asleep.
    He had the dream.

    They come in low and fast over the ridge, the relentless har d drumbeats of the rotors echoing from the valley walls.
    The village is a miserable, dust-blown cluster of low, flat-roofed buildings, baking in a bleak hollow of sharp, brown hills. A wide, dirt street runs down the middle. They drop from the chopper and hit the street running. On the right, low flat roofed houses. On the left, more houses and the market, a patchwork of ramshackle bins and hanging cloth walls. Clouds of flies swarm around things hanging in the open air of the butcher’s stall.
    He leads his team past the market. Close enough to the buildings to be able to duck into a doorway. Far enough away so a round fired won't burrow down a wall and right into him.
    He hears a baby cry. The street is deserted. Where is everyone?
    A dozen b earded figures rise up on the rooftops and begin firing AKs. The market stalls disintegrate around him in a firestorm of splinters and plaster and rock exploding from the sides of the buildings.
    He dives for cover. A child runs toward him, screaming about Allah. Nick watches a nd hesitates, a second too long. The boy cocks his arm back and throws a grenade as Nick shoots him . The M4 kick s back, one, two, three.
    The first round strikes the boy's chest, the second his throat, the third his face. The child's head balloons into a red fountain of blood and bone. The grenade drifts through the air in slow motion...everything goes white...

    He woke shouting, twisted in sweat-soaked sheets.
    He got up, made coffee, poured in a double Jameson ' s. W hen he had the dream there was no point in going back to bed.
    When he joined the Marines he'd been gung-ho . Naive. R eady to change the world. But all the nameless and meaningless landscapes of loss and death had changed him . T he world stayed the same.
    That kid in Afghanistan couldn't have been more than eleven or twelve. Old enough to throw a ball, or a grenade, a pretty good distance. Young enough to believe the bullshit he'd been fed about what God