The Interior - Страница 24

"I don't need an apartment," David said, but he was about to have his first lessons in doing business in China. First, Miss Quo had very strong ideas about what foreigners wanted and needed. Second, she was not easily swayed by his opinions or, as he would later find out, direct orders. Third, foreigners who wanted to set up businesses in Beijing were easy marks for every manner of scheme and bribe.

The next three hours were spent going in and out of buildings, up and down elevators, listening to the attributes of particular complexes and neighborhoods. The buildings followed one of two models: either separate structures within the same compound for housing and offices, or both together in the same building. After the Kempinski they got back in the car and drove a few blocks and into a motor court that looked uncomfortably familiar. "This is the Capital Mansion," she said. "Again, you can have housing and office space. I believe this is best for you."

"I don't want to be here," David said, vividly remembering the body that he and Hulan had found here not so long ago-the intestines splayed out, the blood, the smell.

"Because of what happened before," she said amiably. "This I understand, but I have already begun our arrangements."

"Undo them."

"See the rooms, then we'll decide."

David followed Miss Quo, but he barely paid attention to her or the building's director of real estate. When David stepped back outside, Miss Quo stayed behind to talk to the realtor, who was obviously agitated. David wondered just how far the negotiations had gone and if they had gone as far as he suspected, why? As Hulan often said, there were no secrets in Beijing. Certainly Miss Quo seemed to know a lot about him. Clearly she knew about the murder of Cao Hua in this very building. Wouldn't she know this place would upset him?

At last Miss Quo came through the revolving door, got in the car, and snapped out some orders to Investigator Lo in Mandarin. Their next stop was the Manhattan Garden residential complex next to the Chaoyang Golf Course. David explained once again that he didn't need an apartment, but Miss Quo smiled, pretended she didn't understand him, and went on to show him the Manhattan Garden, followed by the Parkview Towers in downtown Beijing, the North Star Commercial and Residential Community, where a thousand foreign families lived and many more worked, and the Bright China Chang An Building, which housed numerous foreign enterprises including Citibank, Samsung, and Abdul Latif Jameel Co., Ltd.

At this point Miss Quo took him to the coffee shop in the Palace Hotel. Miss Quo waved away the menus and ordered in Chinese. Hoping for dumplings or noodles, David was disappointed to have a club sandwich with some limp french fries placed before him. Miss Quo seemed to know almost everyone here, and she waved friends over to meet David and explain that he was opening an office. Each time before they left, she said, "Attorney Stark is a good friend to China, as I'm sure you already know. If you ever need help with business transactions, he will be happy to assist you." She placed a business card with David's name and that of Phillips, MacKenzie amp; Stout in English and Mandarin into each palm. "We will have our office soon," she said. "Until then you know how to reach me." Then there were more handshakes, words of congratulation, and promises of receptions and banquets.

After lunch, he was taken out as far as the Woodlands. Billed as "villas in a resort-like setting," they seemed to David more like tract housing in the San Fernando Valley. Then it was on to something called Beijing Riviera, which boasted luxuriously furnished resort homes complete with central air conditioning, steam showers, Jacuzzis, and heated towel racks. From here they swung back to central Beijing and the Evergreen Gardens. "This is a wonderful place for families," Miss Quo explained. "I don't have a family," David said.

Miss Quo's face crinkled. Between her giggles he ascertained that rentals were $18 U.S. per square meter for lease or $1,188 U.S. per meter if he wanted to buy. He would have needed a calculator to figure this out, but it seemed expensive. But all the prices seemed either confusing or staggering. At the Beijing International Friendship Garden, David was told that he could make "a fifty percent investment and realize a hundred and twenty percent realization of aspiration"-whatever that meant. During the day, as he'd tried to pin down actual prices, he'd heard everything from a low of $6,000 U.S. to a high of $12,000 U.S. a month for a suite with one office and a reception area for Miss Quo.

"You're telling me that in a city where the annual income is- what?-about a thousand dollars, that I have to pay this much for a couple of rooms?"

Miss Quo smiled prettily. "These are your choices. Which one do you want?"

But this was nothing compared to the exorbitant sums that were thrown around for what he considered basic office necessities. Installing a phone line ranged from a paltry $20 to an outlandish $1,400. A fax line cost even more. If he wanted a telex machine, one could be brought in, he was assured, but this too could range anywhere from $100 to $2,800. Even basic essentials like electricity weren't fixed and depended on the building, on the development company's representative, and on Miss Quo's rapport with that person. And they hadn't even gotten to the question of a car and driver.

At four, Lo dropped Miss Quo back at the Kempinski, then edged into the thickening late afternoon traffic. David closed his eyes and dozed off into a jet-lag nap. The next thing he knew, the car had pulled to a stop and someone had opened his door. He felt cool breath on his cheek, then heard Hulan say, "Wake up, David."

As soon as they were inside the compound with the door closed behind them, David took her in his arms, burying his face in her neck. He pulled away and looked down into her face. She was beautiful. She took one of his hands, and together they wordlessly walked to her quarters at the back of the compound. In her living room they kissed. There was no need for words: they were desperate for each other's touch. Hulan pulled at his shoulders, edging him quickly into the bedroom.

Several hours later they lay entwined in one another's arms. They were parched, exhausted, and happy. Finally Hulan got up, slipped on her silk robe, wandered out to the kitchen, and came back with glasses of cool mineral water and a tray laden with grapes, slices of watermelon, and slivers of orange. She placed the tray on the sheet, puffed up the pillows, and propped herself up next to David.

"So," she asked, "how was your day?"

He told her how he'd been pushed in and out of buildings by a highly organized little demon named Miss Quo.

"You're very fortunate to have Quo Xuesheng," Hulan said, breaking off a piece of watermelon.

"You know her?" David asked rather dubiously.

"Since she was a baby. She's the daughter of the minister of the Foreign Enterprise Service Corporation. You were assigned someone very high up. You must have very good guanxi," she said in mock serious tones, then popped a grape into her mouth.

"You arranged this?"

"You have to hire someone. You might as well have a friend. After I got off the phone with you, I called Miss Quo's father. The minister was very happy to place his daughter with you."

"Do the people at Phillips, MacKenzie know?"

Hulan shrugged.

"And she's a Red Princess?" David asked.

"In two ways. Her grandfather was on the Long March, while her father has made millions in his government position."

"So she knows who I am."

Hulan smiled and nodded.

"And she knew perfectly well that I didn't need an apartment."

"Um, I don't know about that. That may have been a test for both of us." She leaned over and reached for another grape. As she did this, her robe fell open, exposing the curve of her breasts. "It wouldn't be a bad idea for you to take a small apartment just to keep gossip down."

"Will it be better for you?"

She closed her eyes and played out different scenarios in her head. When she opened them, she said, "Take an apartment, but you'll live here."

"She showed me space in the Capital Mansion."

Hulan shook her head and laughed. "That's because she lives there, just like Guang Henglai and Cao Hua did. It's very popular with the young crowd."

"Well, I'm not going there."

"No, of course not. I know a good space for you. It's not fancy, but it is close by. We'll look at it tomorrow."

"Okay, but I don't want to pay through the nose."

Hulan smiled. "It's not you. It's the firm."

"Still, I don't like to be treated like a sucker."

"You'll be treated like a foreigner no matter what."

"Which means getting fleeced?"

David told her about the prices that he was expected to pay for a fax line.

"That's not so bad," she said. "Consider this: Until a couple of years ago, foreigners could only send faxes during the day because the government surveillance people who monitored the lines all went home at five."

"But that's no longer in effect?" he asked, relieved.

"No, it's still in effect. We just have people working all night now."

"They can't possibly monitor every fax!"

Hulan shrugged again, and a little more flesh was exposed. "Believe what you want to believe." She pulled another grape from the stem. This time she slipped it and the tip of her index finger into David's mouth. "If you think that's unfair, think about what you-or rather the firm-must be paying your Miss Quo."