Free The Risk Agent by Ridley Pearson Page A

he said, studying himself in the shop’s full-length mirror. “After all that education, why join the army instead of returning here and making serious money? And then, why Hong Kong?”
    “It is complicated,” she said.
    “We make the complication. It doesn’t make us.”
    “You may be good at whatever it is you do, Mr. Knox. But you are not much of a philosopher.”
    He narrowed his eyes.
    “Have I offended you?” she asked.
    “You would have to work harder than that,” he said.
    “Lu Hao has made much trouble for his family. Bad financial dealings. I extended the offer of employment to him in hope of assisting his situation—his family’s situation. The Berthold Group was paying him extremely well. Now, he is in trouble—”
    “Which reflects badly on you,” Knox said.
    She said nothing for several strides. “As I said: it is complicated.”
    Minutes later, they were on the sidewalk in front of Lu’s apartment building.
    A young, energetic Chinese woman approached them. She was in her mid-twenties, displaying unbridled enthusiasm and a lot of leg beneath a miniskirt. They introduced themselves. She two-handed them both her business card: SPACE—REAL ESTATE FOR TOMORROW .
    The apartment building’s lobby was clean and brightly lit.
    “All latest qualities,” the agent said, her English clipped and, at times, broken. “The high-speed Internet, the telephone and the highly technical security. Every residence have hot water and warming and colding of the environment.”
    They rode as a group to the fifth floor in the building’s only elevator. The name of the vacant apartment being offered was labeled in Mandarin beside the door: “Five Fawns.”
    Knox crossed the small living room and looked out the window to inspect the view. First he saw the man in the restaurant window; then, a complication: the trinket cart was heading toward the apartment building.
    Wondering if they’d been made, Knox considered aborting. Instead, he hoped to speed things up and get out of here.
    Grace surprised him with a squeal from the bedroom. “Lover!” she called out. “You must come here this instant!”
    Knox entered the apartment’s bedroom, a space barely wide enough for the double bed. Grace was bouncing on her knees on the mattress like a five-year-old.
    “So soft! You must try this!” she said, patting the mattress.
    Knox waited for the agent’s attention to return to Grace and hesubtly tapped his watch. Grace’s head went up and down as she bounced: she’d caught his cue.
    “What do you think?” she asked. “You like it?”
    “It’s the
view
I’m concerned about, my little rose. We talked about this street being too noisy.
Too busy.
”
    Grace threw herself back onto the bed, drew her knees up into her chest and hummed her satisfaction. “Always so practical,” she said to Knox as she sat up. “Very well. You,” Grace said to the agent, “will please negotiate on our behalf. Street noise is too much. Requires fifteen percent deduction.”
    The real estate woman said, “I am quite certain price is firm.”
    Grace laughed derisively. There wasn’t a firm price in all of China. “Must I remind you: you represent both the landlord
and
our interests.”
    “Yes,” the agent said. “Of course.”
    Grace patted the mattress again. Knox did not sit.
    “The landlord is to install a mirror on the ceiling,” Grace said. “Bedroom lights must be on dimmers.” She reached over and took Knox by the hand. “Come on, Lover! Please, you must try.”
    Knox shot her a look.
    The agent pulled out a small notebook and took notes.
    “Flat-panel television,” Grace said, “one hundred centimeters. Reading lamps on both sides of the bed. No compact fluorescent. Makes your skin look yellow. Disgusting.”
    The agent continued writing.
    “Not that there is to be much reading,” Grace said, mooning at Knox. “Hmm?”
    Knox grinned. “Oh, you,” he said, pushing her shoulder so hard she fell back onto