Wei slammed the brakes. Dogeyes lurched forward. Wei grabbed his collar. "Your grandmother's dead. Want to join her?"
Later, alone in a karaoke booth, Wei's phone buzzed. A text from Pendrew, his handler: Report. Or are you sleeping with the dogs? sleeping dogs gog
It was a humid night in Hong Kong. The kind that made the neon signs drip with color and the alleyways sweat secrets. Wei Shen stood on the rooftop of a Mong Kok tenement, listening to the distant wail of a police siren—his siren, technically, though no one here knew that. Wei slammed the brakes
Silence. Then Dogeyes laughed, harder than before. That was the game. Insult and embrace. Threat and brotherhood. Wei had learned it in police academy, practiced it undercover, and perfected it here, in the belly of the beast. "Your grandmother's dead
Wei smiled. "I look like a guy who needs a drink."
"You're Wei Shen," she said.
The door opened. A woman slid in across from him. Not triad. Not police. Something else. Her eyes were sharp as broken glass.