Part 18 (1/2)
”You need to pick up a witness for me, Ed,” said Karp, and gave an address.
”That's your place,” said Morris.
”Right. My daughter.”
”Uh-oh. Will I need backup?”
”Alert the tacticals just in case.”
In the unmarked, driving uptown, Lucy asked grumpily, ”Isn't this corruption? Taking your kid out in a cop car?”
”Not in the least,” said Karp. ”After this we're going to go to the hospital to see your mother, who is a witness in a major crime. As are you. Believe me, this is official; right, Ed?”
”Extremely.” He goosed the car's siren, moving a cab slightly out of their way. ”See?”
”Then why are we going to the Met?”
”To see the Chinese stuff, and you're ent.i.tled to police protection while we do it. Afterward, if you're not satisfied, it's your right as a citizen to lodge a complaint against the two of us. Meanwhile, let me see you smile. Go ahead, it won't break your face.”
Lucy managed a thin one, with which the dad had to be content, but somewhat later, in the Asian gallery, the girl's mood lifted. They walked together down the halls of lit gla.s.s cases containing scrolls of calligraphy, Lucy occasionally stopping to translate a poem or stopping to stare, transfixed, at one of the cases. Karp spent his time staring not at the meaningless squiggles on brown silk but at his daughter, thinking about paternal love, and fate, and genetics, and about how he, being who he was, should have been landed with this particular child.
After an hour of this, he found her looking back at him. ”You hate this, don't you?”
”Hate is too strong a word. But I'll admit that to me it compares unfavorably to an afternoon at Yankee Stadium, Ron Guidry against Roger Clemens.”
She laughed. ”We could do that, too. But it was really nice of you to make the sacrifice. I'm really glad I got to see this.”
”My pleasure. Want to see more, or go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat?”
”Eat. I'm calligraphied out.”
Seated in the cavernous eatery in the museum's bas.e.m.e.nt, the two chatted amiably about Lucy's experiences at Columbia, the scientists who worked with her, and what they were discovering, about the doings of her friends, movies she wanted to see, her reading, her recent work at the Chinese school, exactly as if she were a regular kid, and he a regular dad. The avoidance of certain topics was hardly any strain, and it did both of their hearts good. Mention of the Chinese school triggered something in his mind, and it niggled at him until, just as they were about to leave, he recalled the yellow sheet in his pocket. He pulled it forth and spread it out in front of his daughter.
She looked at it and frowned. ”Terrible characters. Very badly formed. Where is this from?”
”Someone left it in my office. Can you read them?”
”Uh-huh. This is liang. It means a roof beam. This is j, which means rank, but it's p.r.o.nounced kp in Cantonese.”
”What does it mean in Cantonese?”
”The same thing, but around Chinatown it's also us. I mean, it's the way our family name comes out. It sounds the same and it's an auspicious character. This one I don't know, this one, y, I know from restaurants, it's 'clam,' these two mean 'each other,' I don't know this one, don't know, don't know, this is 'gain' and this is l, 'profits.' ” She frowned at the line of characters, then her face brightened. ”Oh, I get it! It's a saying: y bng xiang zheng y weng de l. Okay, down lower, this here is y, which means fool or foolish . . .”
”Wait a second, I thought it meant clam.”
”No, Daddy, y means clam; y means fool. Can't you hear the difference?”
”Nope. What does the saying mean?”
”Oh, something like, when the snipe and the clam wrestle, the fisherman benefits.”
”Ah, so,” said Karp.
She gave him an interested look, then returned to the page. ”All this scraggly stuff I can't make out. This at the bottom is . . . oh!”
”What?”
She was blus.h.i.+ng. ”It's sort of, like, nasty.”
”I'll forgive you. What does it say?”
”Literally? p.r.i.c.k hairs sauteed with Chinese chives.”
”Good G.o.d!” said Karp, laughing. ”What's that all about?”
”It's Hong Kong slang,” Lucy explained, laughing, too. ”It means, like, a total mess you can't get out of.”
”Do you know what Stendahl said was the worst thing about being jailed?” Tran asked.
From her bed Marlene replied grumpily, ”No, but I'm sure you're about to tell me.”
”You are correct. He said that it was that one could not avoid unwelcome visitors. Do you feel so?”
”No. I welcome all visitors, except those that wish to probe and manipulate my body. Those I detest. The others are useful for ridding myself of acc.u.mulated frustration through a display of ill temper. If I am here long enough, I will have no friends left.”
”On the contrary, my dear: any friend who was liable to be put off by rudeness and ill temper has long since abandoned you.”
Marlene threw a pillow at him, which he caught, and returned tenderly to its place behind her turbaned head. She said, ”This is driving me crazy. I have all these people depending on me, the clients . . . G.o.d knows what's happening to them.”
”So far, nothing, I can a.s.sure you. I, rather than G.o.d, have been keeping track of them all while you lie at your ease like a d.u.c.h.ess. Nothing has been let slip in the past three days.”
”What? How have you done that?”
”Operatives have been hired and a.s.signed, schedules have been made, checks have been issued. The world goes on quite well without you, Marie-Helene. You are perfectly dispensable.”
”I am astounded. I had no idea you were such a genius at organization.”
The man who had planned the 1968 Tet offensive in Tay Ninh province accepted the compliment with a sweet smile, saying nothing. Marlene glanced at the room's door, for the third time in as many minutes, a concerned look blooming on her face.
”And what about Lucy?” she asked.
”I would say she seems well, despite the burden she carries,” said Tran after a moment's consideration. ”She is pinched by always having me with her when she is not at home. She spends much of her time at the laboratory, and at home Mary Ma visits her often. Today, I am happy to say, she is off with her father. I would like to see her light again, as she was, but that will not happen until this business is resolved, or until she tells what she knows.”
”They still haven't caught those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds?”
”No, only the one I interviewed. The Vo are elusive. I have my own inquiries out. But even if the Vo are taken off the board, Leung will still have an interest.”