It’s not the greatest speech in the world but the front gate buzzes and three-armed Asians usher me in, leaving Lucky and Isabella behind.
Stupid? Maybe a little. But it worked.
A blond from Channel Seven News reports, “We’re here, outside the Chinese Embassy where it seems the recently abducted Dr. Taylor has been taken…”
The front door slams and blocks the outside commotion. In total silence, except for my heels clicking on the marble floor, I’m escorted down a long hall and into an opulent office. The walls are covered with bright tapestries depicting Mongol tribes with their horses, and Chinese warlords.
I’m standing and staring when a gray-haired man with a receding hairline enters the room. The ambassador wears a gray suit, red tie and an unreadable expression.
“Doctor Taylor. To what do I owe this honor?” He stands next to me with his hands locked behind his back, imitating my pose.
“Thank you for seeing me.”
One of his brows lifts and he turns his gaze toward me. “I don’t believe you gave me much choice.”
Desperate times, desperate measures, my friend. “I’m sorry for the theatrics but your personal secretary refused to see me. It’s vitally important we find the man who killed Mr. Yan.”
He nods, his eyes back on the wall. “Your FBI believes your husband killed Yan. Why should I think differently?”
“I left my gun with a man in the tunnel, the same gun the FBI says shot Mr. Yan. Don’t you want to find who really killed him?”
“Hmm. Interesting theory. But why not tell your authorities? Why me?” When he turns again, I’m ready with my evil eye and refuse to look away.
“I did. They think I’m delusional. Wouldn’t it be somewhat satisfying to prove China could do what the FBI could not?”
A small twitch of amusement flickers before his face again becomes a mask. “I will have someone go through our footage with you. You will point out this man if you find him.”
He texts into his phone and a small gray-haired woman appears wearing a dark suit and flat black pumps. “Follow me, Doctor Taylor.”
We settle down in a dark room full of computers, monitors, and uncomfortable chairs. Two hours later I’ve almost given up when suddenly, I see him.
“That’s him!” Hopping up, I point at the screen.
Mrs. Chen, the ambassador’s assistant, smiles broadly. She sends an email, waits for the response, and says, “I can only send you a small portion of the video.”
“That’s fine. All I need is one good picture of him.” I share my email address, then give her a big hug. “Thank you so much.”
She’s taken aback by my enthusiasm but quickly recovers her severe decorum. “Your bodyguard is waiting out front for you. We’ve kept him informed of your whereabouts.”
I fly out the front door, rush to where Lucky holds open the door, and show him my phone. “Nailed it.”
“Right onya. I got good news, too. Jack was released.”
Best day, ever.
When I turn my phone back on, there’s at least twenty texts from my husband, none of them sound happy.
Me: Hi. I got a picture of Philip.
Jack: Where R U?
Me: Chinese Embassy
Jack: > - {
Me: Don’t be mad. It was safe. Lucky approved.
Jack: Will deal with him, later.
