The Stone Monkey

than just directions to the Changs’. He looked over the evidence a second time and made some phone calls. You thought you covered it up pretty well, didn’t you?”
    “Put that down, Officer! You can’t—”
    “He knows all about it. How you’re the one working for the Ghost.”
    The agent swallowed. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
    “You’re his guardian angel. You’re protecting him. That’s why you fired that shot at the Wus’ place on Canal Street: you weren’t trying to hit him. You were trying to warn him. And you’ve been feeding him information—you told him the Wus were in the Murray Hill safehouse.”
    Coe looked around nervously, glancing outside. “This’s bullshit.”
    The Ghost struggled to control his breathing. His hands shook. He was sweating furiously. He wiped his palms on his slacks.
    “Don’t worry, John,” Yindao said to him. “He’s not going to hurt anybody else.” She continued speaking to the agent, “And you got the Ghost a nice new gun—a Glock. A new .45. Which happens to be the issue weapon in the INS.”
    “You’re crazy, Officer.”
    “We’ve had reports all along that the Ghost was bribing people in the government over here. We just never thought it’d be an INS agent. Why all the trips to China, Coe? According to Peabody, none of the other field agents travel over there as much as you do. Sometimes apparently on your own nickel too. You were meeting your boss’s snakeheads.”
    “Because my informant disappeared over there and I wanted to get the asshole who did it.”
    “Well, Rhyme’s contacting the Fuzhou security bureau right now. He wants to look over the evidence in that case too.”
    “You’re saying I killed my own informant? A woman with children?”
    “We’ll look at the evidence,” she said coolly.
    “If anybody said they ever saw us together, the Ghost and me, they’re lying.”
    “That doesn’t mean anything. He’s not going to meetanybody in person who could testify against him. He’s got intermediaries who do that.”
    “You’re dreaming, Officer.”
    “No, we’re just examining evidence,” Yindao said. “Rhyme just ran your cell phone call record. A half-dozen calls to a dead-letter answering service in New Jersey in the past two days.”
    “Oh, bullshit. I use that for my local CIs.”
    “You never mentioned running informants before.”
    “Because it didn’t have anything to do with this case.”
    Yindao snapped, “Were you going to call the Ghost when we got to the Changs’ apartment? Or were you just going to kill them yourself? . . . And us too?”
    Coe swallowed. “I’m not saying another word to you. I want to talk to a lawyer.”
    “You’ll have plenty of time for that. Now, right hand on the door handle. It moves off by one inch, I’ll park one in your arm. Understand me?”
    “Listen—”
    “ Understand me?”
    The Ghost looked at her flinty eyes and felt a chill himself. He wondered if she hoped the man would reach for his gun so that she could shoot him.
    “Yes,” Coe muttered, furious.
    “Left hand, thumb and index finger only, on your weapon, grip first. Move real slow.”
    Disgust on his face, Coe carefully removed the weapon and handed it to her.
    Yindao pocketed it and then said, “Out of the car.” She opened her door and stepped out. Then she opened his, the pistol unerringly targeted on the agent’s chest. “Slow.”
    He followed her out. She gestured him around to the sidewalk.
    “Face down.”
    The Ghost’s heart—which had been pounding like a bird trapped in a glass case—calmed slowly.
    Afraid, you can be brave . . .
    This was the height of irony, he reflected. He did indeed have Americans on the take, even within the INS—a hearing officer included, which is why he’d been released so fast and easily yesterday morning. But he didn’t know the names of everyone his agents had bribed here. And, as Yindao had just explained to Coe, he rarely had direct contact with any of them. As for knowing the location of the Wus’ safehouse in Murray Hill—Yindao herself had given that information away when she’d asked if he wanted to join them there.
    Since Coe was apparently working for him, should he now try to save the man?
    No, better to cut him off. The arrest would be a good diversion. And Yindao and the others would be less cautious thinking they’d caught the traitor.
    He watched as, on the sidewalk, she expertly cuffed the agent, holstered her weapon,