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Chen picked up the drive. It felt heavier than it looked. "And the price?"

The neon sign for flickered over a rain-slicked alley in Mong Kok, casting a bruising purple glow on the pavement. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of roasted duck, star anise, and old secrets. Chen picked up the drive

Chen sat at the corner table, the only one where the overhead fan didn't squeak. He wasn't there for the food, though the "Royal Feast" special—a bowl of steaming wonton noodles topped with gold-leafed brisket—sat untouched before him. He was there for the data. "In the old days, we traded in jade," a voice rasped. we traded in jade