The Hamlet Murders Read Online Free Page A

International Exchange Institute do to make cash?” Fong asked in English.
    “It’s hard to tell.”
    That surprised Fong. “Any ideas?”
    “Some, but nothing sound. It seems to have something to do with Anhui Province.”
    “What could they want from that backwater?”
    “I can’t tell you ’til I get further into the computer’s hard drive. But there’s a problem.”
    “What a surprise – a problem with technology, who would have guessed?”
    “Do you want to hear the problem, Detective Zhong, or are you content with making nasty remarks about the twentieth century’s most important technological advance?”
    Fong took a breath and bridged his delicate fingers in front of his face, “Tell me the problem.”
    “The man’s hard drive has a series of complex locking mechanisms on it. I’m worried that if I go at the locks too quickly, I could trigger booby traps that would erase the material we need on it.”
    Fong thought about that but didn’t speak.
    Kenneth shifted positions in his chair. “Can we attack this another way?”
    “How?” Fong asked.
    “Just how important is the man’s business activities to his death? What I mean to say is, do the events of Mr. Clayton’s work necessarily intersect with the fact of his demise? I mean, aren’t there compartments, yes, that’s what I mean, aren’t there compartments – I like that phrase – compartments in which we keep the separate sections of our lives? So it is possible, isn’t it, that in one compartment Mr. Clayton had his work? And in another he had the part of his life that induced his death? Isn’t that a possibility? In fact, why does what the company did have anything to do with Mr. Clayton’s demise?”
    Fong wanted to say because it probably does but thought of the girl in the bar and said, “You may be right.”
    “Then why not let me go at the guy’s hard drive the safe way. Slow is safe in this case.”
    Fong thought about that then said, “Okay.”
    Kenneth gathered together his papers and stood. At the door he stopped and said, “It could take a while.”
    Fong wasn’t pleased. “When you’re done, will I have full access to that material on Mr. Clayton’s computer?”
    Kenneth nodded. As he left the office, he passed by the commissioner, who was cutting a path in the carpet to Fong’s office. Fong sensed this approach before he actually saw him and grabbed his phone, hit a number on his speed dial before his doorway filled with the angry backlit figure of the commissioner – the man who had personally appointed Li Chou as the new head of CSU.
    To Fong’s surprise, Lily’s voice came on the phone. “Dui!” Fong had hit her number on the speed dial by mistake. “Who fucked this?” Lily said in her own peculiar variant of the English language. “Who fucked this?” she repeated.
    For a heartbeat, Fong wanted to correct his exwife’s English slang. Fortunately he decided against it, hung up and turned to another point of wrath in his life, the commissioner of police for the Shanghai district.

    Late that night, a little less well for the pasting he’d taken from the commissioner, Fong returned to the bar. The police officer was still at the door. The secretary was still at the bar. She was very drunk. Under his breath, Fong said to the man, “You have any change for me?”
    “In this place? Are you kidding, sir? Luckily, she has a credit card.”
    Fong nodded and approached the lady who was swaying to the music that came from the speakers over the bar.
    He sat beside her. The alcohol made her sweat and induced her perfume to release its scent. Fong turned to her but before he could open his mouth she spoke to his image in the mirror behind the bar, “You ever been in love, Detective?”
    Fong was so surprised by the question that he almost answered, “I loved my first wife more than the air that sustains my being,” but caught himself and said simply, “Yes.”
    She looked more closely at his image in the