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“A dead man’s switch,” she suggested in English.

“Yes,” I agreed.

The gun merchant nodded.

While the light was still off, he squeezed the hinged lever so it was right next to the handle. Then he turned the key again so the light came on.

“Do this. When light on, you let go of handle – boom.”

He immediately rotated the key so the light turned off. Only then did he relax his grip.

He placed the detonator in the Styrofoam container next to the putty, closed the lid, and secured everything with rubber bands so nothing could fall out. “One thing.”

“What?”

“You get caught – not get it from me,” he said gravely.

“Agreed.”

He handed me the Styrofoam container and glared at Mei-ling.“Nowwe even.”

She nodded. “Now we’re even.”

53

On the drive back to the Continental, Mei-ling seemed nervous.

I could hardly blame her. If a pistol meant 14 years in prison, I was fairly sure that a block of C4 could get you life – or a death sentence.

She pulled the Bentley into the circular drive in front of the hotel and said, “I have to go into work.”

Hidden behind her sunglasses, her eyes were inscrutable.

“I want to see you tonight,” I said.

She paused as though calculating. “How about 10 PM?”

“10 PM it is. Meet you at the Summit?”

“Sounds good.”

I took her hand in mine. “Thank you for helping me.”

She looked at me for a few seconds, then finally took off her sunglasses. Her eyes were filled with worry.

“Please don’t make me regret this,” she said quietly.

“I won’t.”

“…alright.” She leaned forward and kissed me. “Now get out of my car before you get me thrown in jail.”

I laughed, kissed her again, and exited the Bentley holding the Styrofoam container.

She waved as she drove off.

Once she was gone, I walked into the lobby.

As I headed for the elevator, my heart sped up –

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