They walked in silence until they reached the base of the Eiffel Tower. Lee’s model was one-quarter the size of the original, approximately 100 feet tall. This morning the smog was so thick he was unable to see the French tricolor waving from the tower’s summit.
“Stunning,” said Chen.
“We even built a restaurant on the mezzanine level. Three stars. It is called the Jules Verne.”
“After the famous chef?” inquired Elder Chen.
“Ah,” said Magnus Lee, wagging a finger at the old man. “It is you who is clever, Elder Chen.”
“Ayee-yah,” said Elder Chen. “Has something died?” Chen gazed down upon the River Seine. The riverbed was dry except for a trickle of raw sewage snaking down its center. The smell provoked an immediate desire to vomit. Lee noticed that the bodyguards had put handkerchiefs to their noses.
“A problem with the water authority,” he explained. “A flaw in the local pumping station.”
Chen turned and started back toward the office. “It is all very impressive, Big Mountain. I am pleased. I’m certain that I may pass along news to the society that you have sold all the apartments.”
“Not yet.”
“Ninety percent?”
“Soon, Elder Chen.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
“Two percent?”
“Two units. A bit less than one percent.”
Elder Chen showed no reaction. “And the society’s investment?”
“It is safe, as you can see.”
Chen turned, his ugly face contorted with anger. “I see buildings with no occupants. Streets without automobiles. A river that smells like beetle dung. I see a city with no citizens. What do you see?”
“All will change when I get to Beijing and assume the vice premiership.”
“If you get to Beijing.”
“The leaders know my policies. They know I advocate for a more competitive yuan. That is why they have summoned me.”
“And those who wish to keep our currency strong?”
“They are capitalist puppets and will be exposed as such.”
“But the American influence is considerable. They wish us to buy their products and to develop a middle class. They have many allies in the party.”
“In due time we shall follow their example. But not now. Not when factories are closing and people are without work and food. Not when our banks are facing mountainous debts from unsold buildings. Not when people save their last pennies out of fear for the future.”
“You speak wisely, but—”
“As soon as we act, the economy will improve. Our exports will become cheaper. Our businesses will thrive. People will not be afraid to spend. Trust me, Elder Chen.”
“I trust you. You have always been like a son to me. Others I cannot vouch for. They are worried about the society’s money.”
“Silly.”
“One billion dollars is not silly.”
“In time we will have four times that amount. I have taken measures.”
Elder Chen had been a criminal for too long to miss the conspiracy in Lee’s words. “Oh?”
“Something will happen soon that will give our country all the power it needs to resist the Americans.”
Chen smiled a toothless smile. “May I inquire what?”
“Patience, Elder Chen. I can tell you one thing. When it does happen, you will not miss it. Nor will anyone in the world. Especially our American friends.”
“I will relay your message. In the meantime, may I tell them that you will at least be able to repay their investment in your company?”
“You may assure them that their money is safe.”
The men had reached Chen’s Rolls-Royce. A bodyguard held a door open. Miss May sat in the back seat, eyes wide. Lee could see that she was trembling. Elder Chen slid into the car with the ease of a man half his age and placed himself close to the young woman. He looked at Lee.
“One billion dollars, Vice Premier Lee. Shall I tell them Monday?”
54
Michael Grillo was making progress.
It was four-thirty in the afternoon and Grillo sat at a back table in BLT Steak at 57th and Park. Finishing his coffee, he cast an eye about the room. The lighting was dim, and a few diners were seated here and there. Jeb Washburn’s words about Palantir’s being a software program that accurately forecast future events stuck with him. Predictability was out. He would return to Balthazar when the job was over and done. Until then, he would alter his routine to make it unrecognizable—and unpredictable—to him, to Palantir, and to anyone else who might be watching. Satisfied that none of the remaining patrons was paying him any mind, he returned to his work. He was safe…for the moment.