The Flower Net by Lisa See

invitation—is the only thing that’s going right between our two countries. We just don’t want it—or you—to go south on us.”
    “Are you questioning my loyalty?”
    “You wouldn’t be here if we were. We know your record. We know your family and associates from your FBI check before coming to the U.S. Attorney’s Office. We aren’t worried.”
    “Can’t Jack come with me?”
    “I wasn’t invited,” Campbell said, breaking his silence.
    “And we don’t think it’s appropriate to send the legate from Hong Kong either,” O’Kelly added.
    “I don’t like this.”
    “Mr. Stark, no one asked you to like it,” the man from State had said. “You found a body. China—for whatever reason—has an interest in that body. And we have an interest in stabilizing our diplomatic relationship with China by whatever means possible. You seem to be that means.”
    Now, as Beth Madsen sidled back across David, this time grazing her breasts against his left cheek, he wondered if she was on his list of don’ts. Could the Chinese really bug each hotel room? That seemed both daunting and dull. What could they learn from a gaggle of Tennessee two-step dancers?
             
    The terminal was hardly an advertisement for the newly affluent society he’d been led to expect by Patrick O’Kelly. Instead, as he followed Beth down a bleak hallway and into a cavernous room, he saw numerous soldiers in drab uniforms, old women with kerchiefs on their heads sitting together and gossiping, and exhausted travelers nervously clutching bags and passports. A layer of dirt coated everything, and the smell of cigarettes and simmering noodles hung in the air. But what struck David most was the cold; he could see his breath even inside.
    He stood behind Beth at passport control. The surly uniformed officer didn’t say a word or even look at David as he handed over his passport to be stamped. He waited with Beth as the luggage came through on the carousel and walked with her to the Customs check, where they were waved through without opening their bags.
    “I have a driver if you need a lift,” Beth offered.
    David gazed out past the temporary wooden barricades that separated the secured area of the terminal and the exit, which was jammed with Chinese—civilians and more soldiers in green greatcoats. He wasn’t sure if it was an acoustical anomaly or if the people were really shouting. He watched as another passenger pushed into the cacophonous swarm and was instantly assaulted by people asking him if he needed a ride.
    “I’m supposed to be picked up,” David said a little nervously. “Where do you think I’d go to meet someone?”
    “Follow me,” Beth said.
    He hitched up his suitcase in one hand and his briefcase in the other and stepped into the throbbing crowd. He felt the crush of warm bodies against him but pressed on. “Taxi?” “Driver, cheap.” “I take you to hotel.” David finally broke through and into the open.
    The air was thick with coal smoke, exhaust, and the freezing fog’s lingering dampness. Along the curb, pristine luxury cars were sandwiched between dented heaps that looked like oversized tin toys. Reunited families gathered here and boisterously crammed belongings and relatives into the cramped confines of the Chinese-made cars. A couple of generals—dressed austerely in long olive-green coats—silently stepped into their Mercedeses, while a bevy of American tourists fretted over a mountain of suitcases being passed into the underbelly of a tour bus.
    “Here’s my car,” Beth said, pointing to a Cadillac Town Car. “I’ll be at the Sheraton Great Wall if you want to get together for dinner or anything.”
    “I’m staying there too.”
    She eyed him again in her hungry way. “Sure you don’t want to come with me now?”
    “No, I’d better wait here.”
    As Beth slid into the backseat, David started as a voice asked, “Mr. Stark?” He turned to see a Chinese man in his twenties