The Interior

  Miles grimaced. “I have no motive.”

  “Yes, that was a problem,” David agreed. “For the longest time I didn’t see one, just as I hadn’t seen the other things that were so obvious. But you see, that was the key. The obvious. What did I know about you? You were always a climber. Smooth, but a climber. The golf with Milken. The premieres with the studio execs. Mary Elizabeth’s charity work. You wanted to be a player.”

  Miles knew the same lawyer’s tricks David did. Watch the eyes. If he looks up, he’s scrolling through memories. If he looks left, he’s lying. Miles kept his eyes focused on David, but he couldn’t control what happened involuntarily. Color had flooded his cheeks—in frustration, in shame, and finally in anger.

  With athletic grace Miles leapt to his feet. “I didn’t kill Keith!” He looked around the room, searching for someone to believe him. “The rest—”

  “The rest could only happen if you became secret partners with—”

  “Aw, hell.” These words were spoken quietly by Doug Knight, but he’d been underestimated for so long, even by those in the room who knew the truth about him, that no one glanced in his direction. That is, except for Miles Stout, who thought he’d heard in that voice a modicum of sympathy. Miles looked at the man attached to the voice. Then his eyes widened, and his hands instinctively flew up in an attempt to protect himself, but mere bones and flesh could not stop the bullet that shot out of Doug’s gun, entered Miles’s skull just above his left eye, and took off the back of his head. Miles’s body slammed against the boardroom wall and dropped to the ground.

  In that split second before anyone moved, Doug stood, reached out, grabbed Hulan’s hand, and yanked her out of her chair. She shrieked, high, loud, and very briefly. Then they watched as her eyes rolled up, her face tilted back, her body lost its structure, and she collapsed to the floor. Doug stared down at her, then at his own hand as if trying to ascertain how his grip could have caused such a result. David understood that Hulan had hoped to con Doug into that moment of confusion. After a quick glance at Lo, who was reaching for his weapon, David lunged toward Doug, but he was brought up cold by the sickening metallic sound of a revolver being cocked and the chamber moving into place. Then he felt the muzzle of a gun press just below his left ear and Amy Gao say in her melodious voice, “Step back slowly.”

  “You’d better obey her, Stark,” Doug said to David, then turned to Lo. “And you’d better drop your weapon.”

  Both men did as they were told.

  Hulan’s attempt to divert their attention hadn’t worked, but she still lay in a rag-doll heap on the floor.

  “Get up, Inspector!” Amy Gao’s voice reeked with contempt.

  Hulan still didn’t move.

  “I think there’s something wrong with her.” Five pairs of eyes turned to Doug, who held out the hand he’d grabbed Hulan with. It was streaked with blood.

  David took a step forward. Doug’s gun swiveled in his direction. “Wait!” David held his position as Doug nudged Hulan with his foot. When she didn’t move, he reached down, pulled out her gun, and tossed it across the room. Then Doug motioned to David.

  David knelt by Hulan’s side.

  “Hulan,” he said tenderly. When he got no response, he repeated her name louder. Still no response. He put his hand on her face. Her skin was hot and dry and dead white. Her breathing was shallow and ragged. He checked her body and saw nothing wrong except for her bandaged hand. He picked it up. It lay limp in his palm. The bandage was soaked through. He unwrapped the sodden gauze. Thick green pus and blood coated her hand. The wound itself was open and oozing. The swollen skin around it was a rupture of deep purple with dark streaks emanating from the center like some strange sea creature. Slowly, carefully David pushed her sleeve up from her wrist to her elbow. The horrid streaks made crimson rivers along the skin up her arm. He felt higher to her armpit. The glands were swollen and hard. Blood poisoning. He had to get her out of here.

  Doug Knight and Amy Gao, with their weapons aimed at him, were not prepared either for the swiftness or ferocity with which David acted. He lunged into Doug’s gut, sending the raw-boned man flying across the room. Lo followed up with a flying kick to Doug’s back, while Henry threw his right elbow into Amy’s face. David heard a report from a gun—whether Amy’s or Doug’s he wasn’t sure—because he’d swept up Hulan in his arms and was running down the hall back through the heart, where a hundred women in business attire were trying to figure out what was happening.

  He made it to the courtyard. Lo’s rental car was at the bottom steps. Of course, the keys weren’t there. David tried the Mercedes and Lexus; both were locked.

  “David! Hurry! Come with me!” It was Henry, taking the Administration Building’s steps three at a time.

  David adjusted Hulan’s inert form in his arms and took off after the older man. They raced across the courtyard, passing the cafeteria and the dormitory. More shots rang out, tufting up the dirt ahead of David and Henry.

  They ducked into the Assembly Building. Jimmy, the Australian guard, wasn’t at his post, so Henry was able to reach under the desk and hit the release button for the door.

  “Grab it!” he ordered.

  David struggled to get the door open; Hulan moaned and twisted in his arms. As soon as Henry saw the door ajar, he ripped the wires for the release mechanism out of the desk. Then he hurried to David, and together they entered the hallway. The door closed behind them and locked into place.

  David leaned against the wall, gulping for air, sweat streaming down his face. Henry bent over, placed his hands on his knees, and tried to catch his breath. Looking down at the older man, David registered the oddest detail: he could see the blood pounding through the veins in Henry’s neck.

  “Lo?” David asking, gasping.

  Henry shook his head. “Shot. I don’t know.”

  “We can’t stay here.”

  “There’s a phone. Remember?” Henry straightened, still panting. “Aaron Rodgers has a phone in his office.”

  With the soundproofing in the building, the corridor seemed fearfully quiet. Although they couldn’t hear any activity from the factory floor, they could feel the reverberations from the pounding of the heavy machinery. Then they heard noise on the other side of the door.

  “Let’s go,” David said and propelled himself off the wall and down the corridor. He made the first turn and pulled up short. Henry peered around him and saw blood and brain matter splattered on the walls. Sandy Newheart lay dead, with at least one bullet to his head and several others to his body. They had no choice but to walk right through the crime scene, destroying evidence in the process. David’s shoes slipped in the blood, and his shoulder crashed into the wall. That blood belonged to someone he knew—a young man who’d spoken just the day before yesterday about going home.

  Once on the other side of the body, they picked up their pace, hurrying first down one corridor, then another. “Do you know where we’re going?” David asked. Henry didn’t answer. He didn’t know the way through this maze any better than David. Behind them they heard more gunshots and the door splintering. Again and again Henry tried opening different doors, but they were locked. Behind them in the corridor they heard shoes tramping on the linoleum, getting closer.

  Henry tried another door. As it opened, the sound of the running footsteps was completely lost in the din of the machinery in the main assembly room. Henry ducked inside, with David carrying Hulan right behind him. They darted across the floor, dipped behind one of the machines, and hunkered down. All this happened so fast that most of the women hadn’t even noticed. David laid Hulan on the ground. She opened her eyes. He put his face down close to hers.

  “David?” she whispered. “Where are we?”

  “In the Assembly Building,” he answered.

  She closed her eyes against the terrible noise. Yes, she was in the assembly room. She opened her eyes again, rolled onto her side, and pushed herself into a sitting position. Her face t
urned the color of pale green marble.

  “You’re sick, Hulan,” David said. “I think it’s blood poisoning. We’ve got to get you to a hospital.”

  “Help me up,” she said. When he hesitated, she ordered him gruffly. “Get me up! We don’t have much time, do we?”

  David did as she asked. Once in a standing position, she wavered, reached out for the corner of the flocking machine, and steadied herself. She reached for her weapon, but of course she didn’t have it. The two men stood before her, staring at her worriedly. Lo wasn’t with them, and she assumed the worst.

  This was a police matter now. They needed to follow her lead, but she was in no condition to do much of anything. She stood perfectly still, pale and frail compared to the woman who’d been so righteous in the Tsais’ courtyard only an hour ago. As far as she knew, there was only one way out of here—the corridor, and she concluded that that was the way they’d gotten in this building. The only reason David and Henry would have brought her here was if they’d had no other choice, which meant that people were after them.

  “Excuse me, but you’re not allowed in here,” a woman’s voice said loudly in Mandarin. They turned and saw Madame Leung, the party secretary. “This room is not for foreigners or visitors. And,” she added, her tone severe, “no men allowed!”

  “Madame Leung, it is I, Liu Hulan. And this is Henry Knight.”

  The party secretary seemed not to understand. This woman, obviously sick but dressed in her fine silk suit, was no one she knew. As far as the old man? Yes, it was him, but he never came in here during working hours.

  “We’re in trouble,” Hulan continued rapidly. “You must help us.”

  “This is no place for visitors!”

  A shot rang out. Even with the racket of the machines the sound was loud, sharp, and distinctive. Madame Leung turned and saw Doug with the weapon in his hand, Amy Gao at his side. He lifted his weapon again and aimed for the little cluster of people. Before he could pull the trigger, his targets scattered. He fired anyway. Women screamed. Some instinctively fell to the floor. Others made as if to run, but he and Amy blocked the door. There was no place to go.

  Hulan peeked around the flocking machine and saw David and Henry about ten feet from her, behind the engine for the main assembly line. Their heads were down by the exhaust, the fan blowing David’s hair away from his forehead. Then Hulan took in as much of the room as she safely could. No one had been shot as far as she could see. There was no movement except for Party Secretary Leung, who slowly crept on all fours under some machinery against a nearby wall. Hulan turned back to Doug. He was saying something to Amy and motioning to the wall not far from Madame Leung. Amy strode forward purposely, unafraid. Why should she be afraid? She held a gun and she had backup. Madame Leung fell flat as Amy passed the machine she was under, but the woman with the gun didn’t notice. Amy got to the wall, reached up, and pulled down several levers. One after another the machines ground to a halt. The room fell silent.

  “Come out, Dad,” Doug called across the cavernous room. “You’re in no danger.”

  “What’s happening?” a girl yelled in Mandarin.

  Doug waved his gun toward the sound of the voice. Again, silence. Hulan edged around the machine. She saw Siang and Peanut huddled together.

  Doug reached down, grabbed a girl of about twelve, and held the gun to her head. “Dad, I’m asking you to come out and talk to me or this girl dies.”

  Henry started to stand. David grabbed a handful of Henry’s shirt to keep him down, but the older man jerked the fabric out of David’s grasp and stepped out from behind the conveyor’s engine. Doug tossed the girl aside. She fell, then quickly scrambled for cover.

  “Did you always know, Dad? Is that why you wanted to sell?”

  “No, son, I didn’t know it was you until I saw all of your papers together. And during this last hour I’ve been trying to understand, but I can’t.”

  “Then why sell?”

  Henry closed his eyes as if in pain. When he opened them again, his eyes were hard. “Are you going to let these people go?”

  “Why sell?” Doug demanded.

  “I thought you’d get a better price while I was still alive, and together we could deal with the tax consequences.”

  This, of course, was what Pearl Jenner had written in her coverage of the sale, and it had been the accepted reason bandied about on Wall Street, but Doug didn’t believe it. “You didn’t want me to have the company,” he stated matter-of-factly.

  “If that’s what you want to believe—”

  “Admit it!” Doug aimed the pistol.

  Henry raised his hands in supplication. “I’ll admit it if you’ll let these people go.”

  Hulan took this as her cue. Drawing on her last reserves, she edged back out of sight, then crawled along the floor. This meant putting weight on her hand. The pain was excruciating, and with every yard she gained she thought she would pass out again.

  “Dad, you know I’m not going to do that. I can’t. Things went too far.”

  These words chilled Hulan. Either that or she shook from pain and the cold sweat that had broken out over her body. She reached a little group of women, whispered instructions, and moved on. David too had begun to move, making his way slowly and quietly to a position behind Amy, who stood with her gun aimed at Henry’s back.

  “Tell me why, son. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do now? Tell us why.”

  Doug didn’t respond. Instead he looked around the room apparently searching for something.

  “Doug!” Henry shouted. “I’m talking to you!”

  Doug looked back at his father. “What is it, Dad?”

  “I need to know why.”

  “But there’s so many reasons, and”—he grinned—“so little time.”

  “Tell me we have time for this at least. Accord me that courtesy.”

  Across the room, Madame Leung kept moving, also stopping occasionally to whisper to girls and women. Did she have the same idea as Hulan? Or was the party secretary just trying to make her way to the door? If she was and Doug or Amy caught her, she’d be dead in a second.

  Doug sighed. “Okay, but if you’re stalling for time, it won’t do any good. As everyone has said before, this place is in the middle of nowhere. What has to happen now can’t be stopped.”

  Henry agreed with an abrupt nod.

  “I was never interested in the company, Dad. You knew that. Everyone knew that. You thought I wasn’t good enough. Everyone else thought I wasn’t talented enough. I’ve heard it my whole life at those toy conventions—your dad’s a hard act to follow, or you’ve got some pretty big shoes to fill. Then you got sick and you sent me here to get this place built. I met Governor Sun and, of course, his assistant, Amy. She was the one who first told me how profits could be made without any outlay of capital.”

  “Skimming off the salaries,” Henry said.

  “I know it doesn’t seem like much,” Doug said. “But look, three hundred thousand a year tax-free ain’t bad.”

  “That’s chump change.”

  “It’s not when you start adding in other factories. Once I got here, I saw we could expand easily—just as Mattel and Boeing have.”

  “Those are legitimate businesses.”

  “It doesn’t matter how you get there. What matters is the profit. Do the math, Dad. Four new factories, each with a three hundred thousand skim—”

  “But it still wasn’t enough.”

  Hulan reached her old workstation. She brought a finger to her lips to keep Siang and Peanut from making a sound, but their eyes widened in disbelief and surprise as they recognized her. Then she leaned in and whispered. It was her last act before she lost consciousness again. From his position across the room, David saw Hulan sink to the floor and the two Chinese girls try to wake her.

  “Exactly!” Doug said. “The turning point came with Sam & His Friends. You’re home, supposed to be resting, and you come up with this great idea. T
hat’s what makes you a genius. That’s why you’re in the Toy Hall of Fame. But you didn’t see the potential.”

  “I saw it. That’s why I wanted to sell now. We’d get the best price while I was still alive.”

  “No, you don’t see what I see. The dolls are nothing. The money’s in the technology. If you’d spent any time with Miles and Randall, you’d have seen that’s what they wanted.”

  “Was Miles your partner?”

  Doug humphed. “He’s a lawyer, Dad. Give me some credit.”

  “But he knew what you were doing out here.”

  “Sure. But he had his eye on a bigger prize. Seal the deal, leave his firm, and go over to Tartan. They were talking stock options, the works. You would have known that if you’d paid any attention.” Doug shook his head. “But you didn’t pay attention, which is why we’re here. All you had to do was spot trouble, i.e., our company was paying Sun Gan bribes, and you would have nixed the whole thing, because you’d do anything to protect that guy. Am I right?” When Henry didn’t respond, Doug screamed, “Am I right?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you didn’t back out of the deal because nothing went as it was supposed to. I gave that little tramp the information, and what does she do? She fucks it all up. I wanted her to give the works to that measly little do-gooder who’d been nosing around. But instead she splits it up. Keith shows a variation of it to Miles, who buries it for his own personal gain. Keith died because he didn’t have the guts to expose what he knew. She also sends some of the papers to Sun, and he does everything he can to cover his ass. But I still counted on Guy Lin. He at least did what he was supposed to do.”