The Poppy Score: A Paul Marcus Thriller by Tom Lowe

Author:Tom Lowe [Lowe, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kingsbridge
Published: 2022-04-21T23:00:00+00:00

FIFTY

Shiyan, China - present

Shan Chen wanted to deliver the message for more than two decades. Now was the time. He stood in a remote section of a cemetery in Shiyan, China, looking down at the marble gravestone of his sister. He knelt, using one hand to sweep away dead leaves. In Chinese, the engraving read:

Ling Chen

1974 – 1999

Beloved Forever

Chen set a bouquet of blue and white tiger lilies next to the headstone and took a long breath. “These are your favorite, Ling. The tiger lilies. In your heart, you had the spirit of the tiger, ready to take on the challenges you encountered along the trail. Your journey came to an end much too soon.”

He stood, the air across the cemetery warm and carrying the odor of damp moss and old stone faded from the sun. Some of the visible graves dated back more than five hundred years. Others, worn down and almost gone from time and seasons, were much older. Chen adjusted his weight from foot to foot, choosing his words carefully. “Ling … vengeance is done. It took a while, but, as our father used to tell us as children … endurance is power; with time and patience, the mulberry leaf—the food of the silkworm, becomes a beautiful gown.”

Chen blinked back the tears. “I miss you little tiger. Until we meet again.” He blew a kiss toward the gravestone.

***

Bo Meng believed that she knew Congressman Charles Blum better than he knew himself. She knew that, as a career politician, he was a creature of veiled adaptation, not unlike an actor. Although, for the most part, he’d stay within the established parameters of his political party when he wasn’t accepting dark money and gifts from lobbyists.

The news media labeled him as a moderate liberal. But Blum didn’t adhere to labels unless the categorizing could give him more leverage in congress. His method of operation was to appear to work both sides of the political aisle all the while holding his cards to his chest.

Before Meng began her internship in Blum’s office, she’d studied a dossier researched and written by CCP spies who’d spent two years assimilating and cross-referencing the data on the congressman’s life. Meng knew Blum grew up in a Jewish home but found little time or interest in practicing the faith. She knew his hobbies, the dynamics of his immediate family and office hierarchy. She was aware of his tastes in food, clothing, homes, cars, sports, and men.

It was rumored that Blum, a father of two daughters, enjoyed the occasional company of high-end male prostitutes who worked the ritzy bars and hotels in the Washington, D.C. area. They were very discreet, professional, and charged a minimum of a thousand dollars an hour. Each prostitute he sought out was a specialist in sadomasochism.

But the impeccably dressed congressman, who often wore a bowtie, was very careful, never booking the encounters online. Always using a burner phone to text. He never used the same hotel room twice. He had his favorites.

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