The Voting Machine

The Red Prince

 "I think I know where we might be able to find her inside," Teresa said. "She and I shared a client, a man who gives Perlson so much business that he has a few floors of the hotel to himself. His name is George Chen, an old friend of Harvey's. Harvey introduced him to J.P. Breton during the Marcus Davis trial. Chen started out with a business interest in the Passion case. Then he learned that J.P. had a special connection to Shiro."

"What else do you know about this guy?" I asked.

"He is from China. He's one of the ones they called the "Red Princes" because his uncle was a hero of the Revolution. He has closed connections to all the top people in the Communist Party. They sent him here to lead investment projects. He's pouring Chinese capital into all kinds of different American businesses: technology, energy, manufacturing. But he's never been able to get a stake in finance. He's never been able to buy a U.S. bank."

"So that's why he's interested in Passion?"

"When Marcus was indicted, Passion was in complete chaos. The stock was worth pennies on the dollar. Shareholders were suing the board. The firm's reputation was in tatters. None of the big Wall Street firms wanted to touch it. It seemed like the perfect opportunity. Chen hired J.P. as a consultant to better understand Passion's assets. Passion always had one advantage and that was the credit card business. J.P. led the investments into technology that built a psychological profile of the customer. Passion had the best cardholder database, the best risk algorithms. J.P. was considered a turncoat in the industry because he testified against Marcus after all those years as a loyal lieutenant. But that was perfect for Chen, because now he had access to a genius who had designed the inner-workings of the company. With Chen's money they could resuscitate Passion. Then they could expand the core credit card strategy and take it global, finding new customers in emerging markets all over the world."

"Chen created a group of international investors, including sovereign wealth funds from Europe and the Middle East. He believed this would give him some cover, so it didn't look like a purely Chinese effort even though he never gave up his controlling stake. He planned to make an offer for Passion that the other shareholders couldn't refuse. He tried to do it last year when Marcus was convicted, but Chet Castle outmaneuvered him, making himself CEO and obtaining a majority stake of the voting shares. Chen realized that Castle was going to resist his takeover bid, but that just made him more determined. For the past year he's been preparing another attempt, raising more money from China so he can offer to pay a premium for the shares that Castle would never be able to match. So the issue isn't money. The issue is government approval. Congress and the Treasury Department have blocked China from buying U.S. companies in the past. They say Washington is deeply divided on this issue."

"That's why the election is so important," I said.

"That's right. Chen has been bankrolling dozens of members of Congress. He's poured hundreds of millions into lobbyists and political action committees. But that's not enough. He wants a clincher, a guarantee. That's how he's used to working in his country."

"What makes you think, he'll help us?"

"I can convince him," Teresa said impatiently. "He's vulnerable. It'll be messy for him if he tries to turn us in. He's a guest in this country. He can't get tangled up in any kind of scandal. And Harvey was his friend. That will count for something."

"I don't know," Luke muttered. "Still sounds like too risky. Putting our life in the hands of some Commie Chinaman."

"You don't call them Chinamen, cowboy," Teresa said. "And they're not really Communist either. They like making money just as much as we do. Maybe more so."

"Sounds like a shaky plan to me."

"If you don't trust me then go make your own plan," Teresa replied.

Luke hunched over liked a child who'd just been scolded at the dinner table. He kept his mouth shut after that, realizing we had a better chance with Teresa and her mystery friend than crawling back down the gutter where we found Nate. Beyond the food bins we passed into the loading entrance of the hotel. Inside was a storage chamber with food supplies for thousands of guests. Further down the hall, you could hear the clatter of dishes, pans and silverware deep inside the building. You could smell eggs and bacon grilling for the American breakfast buffet along with steamed dumplings for the dim sum.

"This is our best chance," Teresa said. "Luke, you said they've stacked the security in the front, right? I don't think they have anyone guarding the back. This is the breakfast rush so the staff in the kitchen will be scrambling just to get everything done. Besides, hotels like this, nobody knows everyone working. There are too many shifts. If we're going to slip in this is the time to do it. Chen is on the top floor. There must be an express elevator they use to serve the high rollers.

Teresa crept into the open storage room and returned with white staff uniforms. We changed underneath the dock behind the cover of the dumpsters. I took the clothe from a spare outfit and wiped the grime from my face. Once dressed, we walked through the storage room into a corridor behind the kitchen. Cooks and server staffs were racing to prepare food for hundreds of diners that would arrive in the hotel restaurants that lined the main floor of the casino. We spotted a service elevator and ducked in before anyone could get a good view of our faces.

The buttons inside the elevator were numbered 1 to 50. I was about to press the top button when Teresa stopped me.

"Wait. It won't work without this," she said, removing a key card from inside the sole of her shoe.

"You held on to that?" I said. "After all we've been through?"

"It's the most valuable thing I have."

The key card had a Chinese character followed by English spelling.

牌子

PAIZA

She slipped the key card in the slot and the elevator sailed upwards. We arrived at a lobby with unmarked doors and sweeping views of the city skyline. A stone table hung on the wall, carved with writing in ancient Chinese script. Underneath there was a translation:

By the power of eternal heaven, this is an order of the Emperor.

Whoever does not show respect to the bearer will be guilty of an offense.