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before a narrow elevator door and thumbed the keypad. They rode the elevator up a few floors, then the doors rolled open to reveal a spacious office panelled in dark wood, with a wide picture window. Three leather chairs had been arranged before a cold fireplace. Large fringed rugs covered most of the hardwood floor.
    Chang removed his overcoat and draped it over the back of a chair. Unbuttoning his suit jacket he said, “Please take a seat.”
    Already second-guessing his decision to come, Aidan lowered himself into a chair, the leather creaking under his weight.
    As if on cue, a large section of panelling swung into the room and a young man dressed in a black waiter’s uniform entered, balancing a tray with a red clay teapot and three cups on it. He set the tray on a low table by the hearth and disappeared as silently as he had come. Chang sat down, adjusted his cuffs, consulted a thin gold wristwatch and settled back.
    “When Mr. Bai arrives,” he said, “don’t offer to shake hands. And don’t bow.”
    “Why would I
bow
?”
    Chang didn’t reply. Aidan looked around. What was he doing here? What did they want from him? His thoughts were interrupted by the click of a door latch. When Changsprang to his feet Aidan rose too, as an elderly man appeared in the door frame. He was small in stature, more than a head shorter than Aidan, with snowy hair cut short and the bright eyes of a mouse—although there was nothing mouselike in the aura of authority that seemed to seep from him. Eyes on Aidan, he said something in Chinese.
    “Mr. Bai has introduced himself, Aidan,” Chang said, then broke into Chinese for a sentence or two, in which Aidan heard an approximation of “Boyd.”
    Bai gestured toward the chairs and they all sat down.
    “Tell him my name isn’t Boyd,” Aidan said.
    “From now on,” Chang replied, “address yourself directly to Mr. Bai. I shall translate for both of you. Do not speak to me.”
    Bai had taken the chair opposite Aidan. He studied Aidan intently. Aidan did his best to hold the old man’s gaze, noting the oval face with its strong features, the expensive fabric of the suit that rested easily on the narrow shoulders, the absence of jewellery, then the intelligent eyes again. He decided that “old man” was the wrong term for this guy. Bai looked over at Chang and nodded. Chang poured tea for the three of them, placing a cup before his employer.
    Aidan was struck by the odd formality of it all. A tea party with two strangers in an office above a restaurant. In a voice both calm and reassuring, Bai began to speak again, accompanied by Chang’s simultaneous rendition.
    “I am very pleased to meet you, Mr.… Aidan. Welcome to my office. It was kind of you to spare me some of your time. I hope I have not inconvenienced you too much.”
    “Why have I been brought here?” Aidan asked bluntly.
    “Please forgive the unusual manner in which I have sought to meet you,” Bai continued. “I see you are anxious to return to your own affairs. But if you would allow me a moment or two.”
    Bai spoke at length, with Chang providing the English. He thanked Aidan for saving his grandson, Wesley’s, life, showed concern for Aidan’s wounded hand and ended by saying that he was forever in Aidan’s debt.
    “I didn’t do anything,” Aidan protested. “Really. I just happened to be there. I reacted out of instinct.”
    “Your modesty becomes you” was the reply. “Wesley told me everything, in detail. And he asked me to convey to you his apologies for appearing both rude and ungrateful at the time.”
    I’ll bet he did, Aidan thought, remembering the kid’s attitude.
    “And,” Bai went on calmly, “we were able to … interview … the man who drove the car that day. We know everything, Mr. Aidan. You will have worked out that the four men attempted to kidnap my grandson, but their plans went wrong—thanks to you. Indeed, you probably saved Wesley’s life. Now, Mr. Chang will