“I think so too.” Tinseng folded it and slipped it into an envelope. “Well, what’s left?”
“Packing.”
“Nooo . . . there must be something else.”
“Nothing else.” Jinzhao pointed at a pile of Tinseng’s clothes. “We are moving across the world. Pack.”
“But not for a whole month. It can wait! There are so many better things to do. Like . . . Come on, Jinzhao, don’t hide. Or is it that you’ve grown bored of me already, after a few months of having me whichever way you want? What can I do to keep your interest? I’m but a mere mortal, I can onl—mmph!”
Jinzhao showed him, thoroughly, how to hold his interest, and made sure that Tinseng paid very close attention. Tinseng was nothing if not an attentive student; he even added his own ideas to the curriculum.
Afterward, Tinseng reached for his cigarettes and kept talking. “Let’s go through the plan again.”
“Mm.”
“Assuming he’s hooked on our bait about a buyer in Villefranche, he’ll have the papers by the time we rendezvous. You’re going to pose as a petty—or is it pretty?—thief with some old British codes to sell. It will be hard to check your story since we’re mostly at sea. You’ll ask to meet him in his room for a first sweep, then ask to meet again at port in Lisbon. While he’s ashore, I’ll search the room more thoroughly.”
“And if he’s carrying it on his person?”
“They say these ports are full of pickpockets and thieves.” Tinseng smiled. “Anyone could be a victim.”
“Risky.”
“I could also slip something into his drink one night. We have options; I’m not worried about that.”
“If he has them couriered to Villefranche?”
“Then we steal them at the meetup.”
“Duplicates?”
“Unlikely. With regular blackmail, maybe, but these are state secrets. They’re worth a lot more if there’s only one copy . . . if you know the other side doesn’t have them too. The more people know a secret, the less worth it has. If word got around he was keeping copies, his stock would plummet. Besides, he likes to think of himself as better than other blackmailers who try to dip from the same well. He’s the one-and-done type.”
“But if he does,” Jinzhao said, and Tinseng heard the worry.
“Then they’d probably be in his house in Paris or his estate about two hours outside it. They could be in a safety deposit box at the bank, or some hidden bolt hole in the city, but I don’t think so. A controlling spider like him would want to keep them close.” He kissed Jinzhao’s shoulder. “We’ll find out when we steal the ones he does have. If he calls off the meeting with the buyer in Villefranche, we’ll know there was only one copy. If he doesn’t, we’ll have to intercept.”
Tinseng couldn’t lie around any longer and went to shower. When he went back to the room to change, he found Jinzhao folding clothes into a trunk.
“What will we tell your family when we leave Villefranche?”
“Oh,” Tinseng said with a laugh as he pulled on trousers, “That doesn’t matter. They expect these kinds of things from me. If nothing else, I’ll pick a fight with Cheuk-Kwan, then leave in a huff. My shameless reputation has its perks.” He winked at Jinzhao but the other man wasn’t amused. “Anyway, I can apologize back home once this is all over.”
“And my name?” They would be introduced to Jinzhao as Shan Dao, but once they returned to Hong Kong, he wouldn’t go by his cover name forever.
“That you were worried about the CID—rightfully so, I might add—and a person is most vulnerable to ‘accidents’ when they’re traveling. We wanted to make sure you arrived in Hong Kong safely, and so not even they could know your real identity while we were on the move.”
It was even true, mostly, which he knew would appeal to Jinzhao. Still, Jinzhao looked upset. It was the way he sat, feet tucked under him, staring down at the clothes instead of where Tinseng always wanted him to be looking, which was, of course, himself. He plucked the sweater from Jinzhao’s hands and crowded into his lap, making himself too much of a nuisance to ignore. Jinzhao looked up with a warm expression, but there were still shadows behind his eyes.
“Nothing is assured. You’re right. And I know you’re worried, but if you wanted me to worry with you, you shouldn’t have fucked me so well.” The expression unfurled into amusement, which meant Tinseng was on the right track. “Besides, what is there to worry about? We caught a break with his wife booking that cruise. Cheuk-Kwan took my bait about arranging the trip, and he even invited Chiboon too. It’s the perfect cover. Traveling in groups is always better. Grodescu thinks he’s meeting his buyer in Villefranche, so the papers will either be on board, in which case we’ll steal and destroy them, or they’ll be in Villefranche when we arrive, and we’ll steal them then. You’ll be safe, we’ll fly back to Hong Kong, and get fat on marinated crab until you finally get sick of me. It’s the perfect plan.”
4 Literally “hide a knife behind a smile.” To charm and ingratiate oneself with the enemy; one of the thirty-six stratagems.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ten Days Ago. June 15, 1963. At Sea.
It was the perfect plan—right up until dinner the first night.
They met Yukying and Cheuk-Kwan at the train station, and both were too polite to ask too many questions of the stranger Tinseng had brought on their family trip. Jinzhao’s fake passport sailed through all its checks, and soon enough they were safely ensconced in their new home for the next ten days, door locked and gray Southampton light shining through the porthole of their stateroom.
Tinseng felt so good he’d been indulging almost every impulse to tease Jinzhao as it entered his mind. As he finished his haphazard unpacking, he looked over his shoulder to find Jinzhao was neatly hanging all his shirts, even the undershirts. Of course he is, Tinseng thought fondly. He was so good.
“What should we do now?” Tinseng asked nonchalantly, making a show of looking at his watch. “We’re on vacation, remember? We have some time before we’re expected for cocktails.” He unhooked his watch and set it on the dresser. The cufflinks were next, then the tie. “And we have the run of the entire boat.”
“Ship.”
“Whatever. It’s better for our cover if we’re seen taking part in activities.” He took off his suit jacket and let it crumple on the floor. “What about a drink at the bar? A Shirley Temple for you, extra cherries. Or we could join a round of cards. Maybe sit in the smoke room and discuss Korea?”
As he listed things Jinzhao would never do, he unbuttoned his pale purple-heather shirt. Jinzhao walked slowly over to him, eyes dark as they lingered on Tinseng’s exposed chest.
Tinseng managed to keep a straight face as he continued, “There’s a movie starting in a few minutes. But I don’t know if I should sit in a dark room with you, Jinzhao. I’ve heard you can’t be trusted. I’ve heard about the kind of things you get up to in the dar—”
He laughed into the kiss and wasted no time pulling Jinzhao down on top of him. Each long kiss left Tinseng dizzy.
“This can’t be your answer every time I ask what you want to do,” he said.
“Why not?” Jinzhao asked as he unzipped Tinseng’s trousers.
