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Does your father find out everything? Like the hotel on the corner of Chunghsiao Road and Fuhsing Road? She stares at him: blank or shocked? Hard to tell. He reaches over and extracts the notepad from her grip; she lets it go without a struggle. He slips the VCD back into its jewel case and hands it to her. Better be careful. I think this one is already out there. All the color flees her face as she sees the case and what is displayed there. I wasn't looking for it, he says. Just found it by chance. Mr. Lau made this. His card is in there. What -- she finally croaks. What am I supposed to -- 
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I have to go. He turns for the open door but the Filipino servant blocks the exit, his arms at his sides, absurdly stiff. It's all right, she says. He can go. The servant makes no movement, gives no sign of acknowledgment. C.J. is standing by the world globe made of safety glass. It is kept in place with screws on each pole that fasten it to the wooden frame. With a few quick twists the north pole is undone, and the weight of the globe wrenches it free from the south pole with a satisfying crack as the wood splinters. The globe rolls across the room, bearing down on the bookshelves across the way, and C.J. strides for the door as the servant staggers into action, all decorum lost as his well-manicured hands scrabble at the edges of the globe, struggling in vain to slow its progress as Miss  |
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