Date: Mon, 13 Oct 2003 23:30:32 +0800
From: paul sung <psun@hotmail.com>
Subject: Shanghai

DISCLAIMER
==========
This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is
entirely coincidental. The author asserts all legal and moral rights
(copyright (c) 2003 - psun@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not
copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this
disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between males:
- if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ ON,
- if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ ON,
- if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ ON.

And any comments - brickbats or bouquets, send them over to
psun@hotmail.com And if you find that you like what you're reading, visit
my page at http://www.geocities.com/savante_2002


The Lieutenant would be on time as usual. In the Shanghai of 2064, you
could count on three things - death, taxes and the dependable Lieutenant
Adam Li of the Shanghai Police Department.

It was five minutes to the appointed time but there was no doubt that
Adam would be there. Standing at the balcony of his newly furnished
apartment, Quinton Post half-smiled to himself as he pocketed his watch.
It was an old-fashioned time-device that would have earned derisive
laughter from his hip, more technologically advanced colleagues at the
studio but Quinton Post was a man who appreciated and valued the past.

Apart from its historical value that was incalculable, the small antique
pocket watch that just barely fit into the palm of his hand retained
significant emotional value for him. When the mainland Chinese ports had
first opened their gates to the barbarous gwei-los after the Opium War,
the first Post had sailed into Shanghai with his eyes full of greed, his
heart full of dreams and a pocket filled with only one pocket watch that
had been passed down from his own forebears. Since then, a succession of
Posts had settled down and remained in East Asia - later relocating to
safer harbour in Hong Kong, slowly building on what would become Post
Industries. The fledgling trading company started by an intrepid
adventurer named Marcus Post almost three centuries ago had diversified
into so many branches with so many little fingers dipped into as many
profitable pies that it boggled even Quinn himself. The thought that he
might one day be called upon to lend a hand in that enterprise terrified
him.

It was the perfect summer night with the balmy breeze coming through from
the river, a full moon in the velvet dark sky and a hot pot of jasmine
tea brewing on the bar. From the view from his apartment, Quinton could
appreciate both the past and the present with the aged, stately colonial
buildings of the Bund on the one side of the wide Huangpu river
overlooking the gleaming, futuristic spires of the Pudong on the opposite
side. Though he would have easily died rather than confess such a
lowering thought to his cousins, he was glad to be home. It wasn't that
he had failed in his purpose since he had actually made quite a success
of himself in the city he'd made his temporary home. The City of New York
had been good to him, honing, grooming and preparing him for this
opportunity but the golden chance for a prime-time news anchor on one of
Asia's top news channels had been just the perfect excuse he needed to
return home.

That - and the fact that his uncle, the patriach of the family, had
accidentally run into an assassin's knife.

The time for grief had passed but Quinn still took the time to lift up a
cup to his late uncle. No genial, loving uncle was he but Maurice Post
had done the best he could with his wayward nephew. Instead of buckling
down and taking up one of the posts ready made for him in one of the
various branches of the family organization, Quinn had instead escaped
half round the globe to pursue journalism in New York. Hard-headed,
pragmatic and driven by the twin goals of his life which was duty to the
family and servitude to the company, Maurice had puzzled over his
nephew's unfathomable behaviour but had wished him well - and no doubt
good riddance to such bad influence in the family.

A billboard blimp drifted past his view and Quinton stared transfixed at
the ad for Channel 88. If anything confirmed the fact that he had made a
name for himself, it was seeing his image, the slickly handsome features
and the toothy smile advertising for the primetime news. Grinning to
himself, he wondered what his cousins would think. The sudden return of
the black sheep - of sorts - to the fold hadn't been greeted with the
proverbial fatted calf as he'd expected. On his second week back on the
job, Quinn had stalked into his uncle's home office after an urgent
summons to find the office drawers in disarray and his uncle clutching a
sharp, pearl-handled dagger plunged into his chest.


Annoyed at himself for blindly agreeing to the meeting, Lieutenant Adam
Li aimed his glare at the ad blimp that drifted ponderously above.
Oblivious to violence of his feelings, the object of his anger only
smiled back at him. The infamous Quinton Post reporting live for Channel
88 Primetime.

Everywhere he looked he could see things that reminded him of Quinton
Post. Amongst the shoppers and tourists strolling down the Bund, he could
see the familiar stylized P shopping bag that symbolized Post Department
Stores. Barely half a block down stood the neoclassical Post House with
their signature twin lions standing proudly in front. Built almost two
centuries ago by the first Post, the building had housed their growing
enterprise till the Communists had taken over and Post Industries had
made the decision to relocate to Hong Kong. It had been more than half a
century ago that Post Industries had taken over their former headquarters
and made it their own again. Just like their golden boy Quinton who had
travelled half the globe before returning to Shanghai.

No doubt Adam had been a fool when he had agreed to the meet. When
Quinton Post had first made that offer, Adam had maintained his adamant
refusal. Without a second thought, he instinctively knew that it was too
dangerous to be alone with the man although he wasn't exactly sure of the
reason behind it. The man was too slickly handsome, too charming, too
aggressive in his attentions. Fully intending to have his eager junior
partner, Song Heon, take the interview, he was unprepared for the
challenge and dare in the man's eyes. It was obvious that Quinton fully
expected him to back away and that very notion made him change his mind
which lead him inevitably to the man's doorstep. It galled him to realize
that he couldn't refuse that challenging smile on the dark, striking
face, the faintly amused gleam in the vividly green gaze. Like a child
being taunted in the schoolyard, he had been goaded into agreeing to come
for the meeting alone.

It annoyed him that the man had obviously pegged him perfectly but he
found it impossible to back down from the bastard.

There were other things that he should have been doing instead of this
such as standing by his partner as the younger detective interviewed the
servants from the Post mansion but no, he didn't think Song Heon would
have appreciated that. A few months ago after Song Heon had received his
well-earned promotion, the younger detective had begged for a bigger role
in their partnership and Adam was standing firm by their decision. After
all, he believed that Song Heon needed to stand on his own two feet
without second-guessing his own instincts.

Failing that, he would have just dropped by one of the glide-carts by his
apartment building, picked up some mediocre soy dim sum, steamed
vegetarian chicken and some Chinese tea pellets for dinner. Then he'd
switch on the screen to any other channel but the news to tune out the
cares of the day.

All that hadn't happened of course since Adam Li didn't back away from
anything. With a whispered curse for the smug Post, he'd jumped on the
subway which brought him all the way to the center of the city and spat
him out onto the Bund, in front of one of the posh apartment buildings
that lined the riverside. Inside, Adam easily gauged the quality of the
residents and looking around, he guessed that the plush carpeting cost
more than his 6 month salary. Preoccupied with his observation, he failed
to notice several tenants giving him admiring glances. His superior
height and well-built physique would have easily earned him that second
look but there was something more about him that drew the eye. A certain
keen, intelligence in those dark eyes that spoke of the cop. The slow,
measured walk and sleek, catlike moves that spoke of the martial artist.

The glances didn't worry him but a certain man in the penthouse suite
did. Worried him enough that Adam toyed with the idea of turning back and
tossing the damned reporter into an interview room just to rile the
bastard. A night in the cage would get rid of that superior smirk damned
quick. Damn, he would have enjoyed clamping a pair of cuffs on those
elegant wrists. Although the idea pleased him, Adam didn't hold on to the
cherished notion any longer than he believed he could have held on to the
man. Seconds after being tossed in a cage, the heir to Post Industries
could have a battalion of slick, terribly expensive lawyers in their
shiny shoes ready to spring him. Money had always been the byword in
cosmopolitan Shanghai - and probably always would.

There was no need to analyze the reason for the quick sexual thrill that
went through him as he thought of Quinton in cuffs. As the many new
viewers of the evening news would attest to, Quinton Post was seriously
iced - and dangerously attractive. Sleek, sharp planes, the slash of high
cheekbones, full lips made up an exotic, arresting face that hinted at
his mixed heritage. His bio mentioned brown hair but it didn't mention
the how the thick, lustrous curls of brown had a hint of vibrant red
interspersed. His eyes were the most amazing shade of green he'd ever
seen, the green of a newly unfurled leaf after a morning rain. All that
coupled with the fit, lithe physique of a natural athlete made up Quinton
Post, Shanghai's hottest acquisition onscreen and New York's loss.

Raw sex appeal Quinton Post had in spades but the fact that the man
appealed, despite being a suspect in his case, annoyed Adam. Sexual
hunger he could deal with and easily understand since he admitted to
himself that he hadn't had satisfying intercourse for the past year but
what he couldn't understand was his reluctant fascination with the man.

Calling up the information he'd collected on his notebook, Adam ran his
gaze over Quinton's official bio. The entertainment info listed him as an
up-and-coming young journalist who had recently returned from chairing
primetime news in New York. What his bio failed to mention was the fact
that he came from serious blue-blooded wealth. Enormous, incalculable
wealth that had begun centuries back when his first ancestor had opened
the doors of what would later become Post Industries. His earlier
impression of a spoiled, pampered socialite who catered only to his own
wishes and had turned his back on his duties and responsibilities had
been hastily revised at their first meeting. Although Quinton Post came
dressed looking the part in a stylish suit that cost more than his
six-month salary combined, there was a certain look in his eyes, a sudden
and unexpected punch of power that surprised him. This was not a man to
be taken lightly.

It was up to Adam to find out whether Marcus had fatally misjudged his
nephew in the same manner. The fact that the same green-eyed look had
knocked him off his feet was something that he would deal with later.


He would have been ridiculously handsome if he hadn't worked hard to tone
down his looks. As if the Lieutenant already guessed the inevitable
effects of his smile and was faintly embarassed by it, he kept those lips
firmly thinned into a disapproving line. If he only smiled, Quinton Post
imagined that boyish dimples would creep up on the edges of the smile.
There was no disguising the flawless gold skin stretched smooth over high
cheekbones and the heroic square jaw, slightly indented. Those eyes,
dark, soulful, almost coal-black in colour with amazingly long, lush
lashes were kept hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses, no doubt a part of
the cop's disguise since he could easily treat any vision impairments at
one of the respected eye centers in town. If they could only see what he
saw, Channel 88 would snap this man up in a second on account of that
charismatic face alone but he doubted that the man would appreciate that
thought.

Although he had never seen the lieutenant stripped down, Quinn could tell
that beneath the uniform of battered leather jacket and tailored slacks
was a lean, mean physique that his colleagues would die for. Giving rein
to his vivid imagination, he could see hard, tight slabs of muscle for
pecs, a tight, ridged six-pack, long, well-muscled limbs and he also knew
that for the first time, the reality would certainly outstrip anything he
could possibly imagine. Wondering what the lieutenant would think of
being lusted after as a sex object, Quinn smiled quietly to himself. What
would the man do if he was to be jumped on and had his clothes torn off
in a sudden frenzy? Would those sexy lips turn into a pout? Those dark,
almond-shaped eyes dilate with shock?

That particular thought had been in his head since the day they'd met
when the handsome lieutenant had arrived on the murder scene. Laughing
cynically to himself, he seriously doubted the cop shared his feelings.
Cucumber cool, clinical and impeccably professional, Adam had drawn the
devil out of him as he'd tried his best to shake that unflappable cool.

Just as the police had no doubt dug up his own painfully thin file,
Quinton had hired his own investigators to find out what made Adam Li
tick. The only son of a dedicated police officer who had relinquished his
own badge after the death of his wife, presumably murdered. Taking the
aforesaid son under his wing, he'd retreated back to the countryside to
bring him up and started a small martial arts school. The study of
martial arts honed Adam's impressive physique while his father's
background and upbringing had instilled a stern, no-nonsense work ethic
and an insatiable thirst for justice in the young police officer. As
young as he was, he had been involved in a couple of prominent cases and
had quickly risen up the ranks.

Stoically single, the lieutenant lived in a cramped little flat in the
Old City and seemed to have no life apart from his professional one.
Lieutenant Adam Li of the Shanghai Police Department walked the straight
and narrow and all that jazz. For himself, Quinn decided that he
preferred life with a little more... spice.

The long, cool assessment he'd received standing at the door didn't seem
to faze the detective at all. Meeting Quinn's gaze calmly, he announced
his arrival quietly. "I am here, as you requested, Mr Post."

"Call me Quinn." Stepping aside to allow the man to pass, Quinn swung the
door wide open. "Come in then."

"Wan an." Taking a step forward, he drew out his badge from his jacket
and held it up. "Lieutenant Adam Li. Homicide."

"You've got to be kidding me." The serious, forbidding expression coupled
with the cliched, oft-spoken phrase tickled Quinn's ready sense of humour
and he smiled. "Do you guys really say that too?"

If anything, the man's expression became even more forbidding and
ridiculous though it sounded, Quinn had the urge to reach over and press
a kiss on those sexy lips. Any other time, he would have given in to the
irrational impulse if he hadn't imagined that the cop would have gladly
thrown him in a cage for aggravated assault.

Giving no reply to Quinn's attempt at humour, the man pocketed his badge
and stepped in. "Do you understand your rights and obligations in this
matter, Mr Post?"

"Yes, believe me this is not my first time. I've managed to worm my way
into a few murder investigations in my time." Remembering some of his
experiences in New York had Quinn smiling to himself and he shook his
head as he recalled some of the police officers he'd known then. As the
man followed protocol and brought out his recorder, Quinn stopped him.
"Shut it down. We'll do the interview after."

Confused, his heavy, dark brows drew together. "Mr Post, if there's
nothing else you might want to add to the evidence you gave earlier..."

"What's the rush, lieutenant?" Expecting the quick escape, Quinn quickly
closed off his only means of escape by coolly shutting the door. From the
sudden flash in the lieutenant's dark eyes and the swift, practised way
he shifted his stance, Quinn realized that he risked being torn apart
limb from limb but he figured he was safe with the badge. "Afraid?"

Still unsure of his motives, Adam hesitated for a moment. "What do you
want, Mr Post?"

"Just a drink, mayber dinner. I bet you didn't eat anything before you
came," Quinn said calmly. Perhaps one day he'd tell the man exactly what
depraved, unspeakable sexual acts he wanted to commit on that lean, sexy
body but right now, Quinn decided not to risk certain death. From the
warning glance and the way the Adam's hand had moved down to his pocket,
no doubt to retrieve his stunner, Quinn decided to make his next move a
little slower as not to provoke the man. "And maybe later.."

The implied come-on was unmistakable and Adam stiffened angrily, his dark
eyes narrowing. The facade of cool professionalism slipped a moment.
"Look, I didn't come here for dinner or to socialize, Mr Post. I came
here to look at the collection you mentioned."

"The daggers?" Quinn smiled slyly. "That couldn't be the only reason you
dropped by, could it?"

"You're involved in an investigation that I'm the primary for." Annoyed
at the sudden palpitation of his heart and his sweaty palms at the man's
words, Adam's voice grew cold. The inexplicable reaction to Quinton Post
irritated him.

There was a streak of controlled violence under that frosty reserve and
Quinton's smile grew wider. Something hot and primal had leapt up in the
lieutenant's eyes earlier and he wondered what he could do to get that
back. "Am I a suspect in my uncle's murder?"

The thought that Post could make him lose control like that made him even
angrier. "I am not at liberty to make a statement at the present moment
but I can assure you that there will still be no..."

The officious little twat. "Perhaps."

"No," Adam replied firmly.

Leading the way through the opulent surroundings to the living room,
Quinton shook his head as he walked. "I believe you have a suspicious
mind, Lieutenant."

Black eyes met his coolly. "I think I have quite enough reason to be
suspicious of a man like you, Mr Post."

"Quinn," he insisted again. It was a name that he would probably never
grow used to. "Mr Post was buried two days ago in the family cemetery."

When Quinn was still a child, his father had been Mr Post and after his
death, his own brother - Quinn's uncle. It was a name almost synonymous
with the company itself since a Mr Post had always been at the head of
the company since its murky beginnings centuries ago except for two
remarkable ladies who had managed to work their way into that coveted
chair. One of them had been his own great-great-grandmother, the
redoubtable Lady Jasmine Post who had reputedly ruled the family - and
the company with an iron fist. A portrait of the brilliant, exotically
beautiful Chinese lady in a stately chi-pao hung in the lobby of the
family home. Elegance and class had marked the fair, fragile-looking
aristocrat and yet she managed to steer the company through two
disastrous world wars nearly intact.

Other than the old tea set, his new apartment was still devoid of the
exquisite antiques that characterized his last apartment in New York but
he knew that his boxes would arrive soon. Brought in by Post Shipping of
course. But at the moment, even his living room was spartan-like bare,
consisting only of the Javanese teak furniture and the snazzy looking bar
- and the real reason he'd agreed to the apartment, the magnificent view
of the Bund and the river.

"I understand completely." Nodding in recognition of that fact, Adam
continued, "It might be a trifle premature then to assume but according
to the latest news you are in fact Mr Post. What we would have called the
Taipan years ago."

"The Taipan, right." Quinton paused for a moment before taking a seat on
the sofa, the easy smile on his face fading away at the question. It was
a name that carried some significance and the very name, and the thought
behind it, had Quinn quaking in his shoes. Five years ago, he'd fled to
avoid the question that hung over his future but this time he'd made the
decision to return, to deal with the inevitable repercussions of his
uncle's death and the very real possibility that he might have to step
into his uncle's shoes. His father and his uncle wouldn't be around to
take the fall for him this time. For the first time, his vividly green
eyes turned serious as he spoke softly, nipping his bottom lip in
abstraction. "I don't intend to step into his shoes yet. My cousin Ai
Ling handles the reins well enough for now."

Slipping out the notebook he kept in his front pocket, Adam jotted some
notes down. "That would be Miss Aileen Post."

"Yes. That would be correct," Quinn repeated in the same tone, his
teasing grin surfacing. "God, you sound just like my governess." Seeing
the seething glare in the black eyes lightened his mood considerably and
drew his thoughts away. "By the way, that's also Ai Ling and Makoto Post.
Both of them hold posts directly under my uncle and would presumably be
next in line."

Breaking off from his thoughts as he glanced down at his notebook, Adam
turned his serious gaze back on Quinn. "Ai Ling, you said?"

"No point in standing on ceremony, Lieutenant." Despite the invitation,
the detective remained standing to Quinn's amusement. "And it is Ai Ling
Post to the rest of us. All of us in the family have Chinese names."

"And you?"

"Wai Tong."

Running the words in his mind, Adam finally managed a small smile. "Wai
Tong. Quinton. Interesting."

"Glad you liked it." It was not often that Quinn wished he wasn't right
about everything. The smile really did wonders for an already spectacular
face. Dimples peeked for a second at the edge of the detective's smile,
making him look even more boyish than he already did and Quinn felt an
urge to stick his tongue in the small indent. Ignoring that impulse, he
pulled himself out of the seat and gestured to the nearby bar. "Come,
Lieutenant, I've forgotten about my hospitality. How about a drink?"

Adam's answer was quick and unequivocal. "No."

"I should have known." Prepared for his refusal, Quinn laughed in
disregard even as he took out cups for the pot he already had brewing.
"Come, you can't be denying my hospitality, Lieutenant Li. That would be
unacceptably rude."

"Not in the middle of a murder investigation." Resolutely, Adam turned
away and walked towards the bank of windows that lined the living room.
It was amazing what wealth could do. While his own windows overlooked the
bare brick wall of a nondescript apartment building in the former Old
City, Post had the magnificent view of the Huangpu and the crowded banks
along with the new Post Tower on the Pudong, a towering, shimmering spire
of frost and silver that dwarfed the other shyscrapers beside it.
"Earlier, I believe you mentioned your extensive collection of weaponry
during the initial interview."

Thinking that even the hard-assed detective wouldn't object to tea, Quinn
measured out the hot tea even as he kept his eye on the detective's
attractive profile. There was no denying that the man had a superior ass.
"Yes, a pair of twin daggers. I reported the one missing two weeks ago.
Guess where I found it."

The detective whipped his gaze around, raising his dark brows in
surprise. "You didn't mention this earlier, Mr Post."

Altough he would never admit it, the same thought had been plaguing
Quinn's mind since he'd found Maurice Post lying dead in his chair. Since
the daggers were unmistakably his, they were obviously meant to point the
blame squarely on him and since only those in the family knew the
particular significance of the daggers, it had been patently clear that
someone in the family had been involved. The week after his uncle's
death, he had compiled as much information on the members of his family
living in the environs of the city. The reporter hound persona had taken
over as he'd dug up every gritty detail of his cousins' lives with the
help of his contacts. The very idea that Makoto - or worse Ai Ling - had
been involved in Maurice's murder was plain disgusting. No doubt the late
Maurice Post had never been the jolly, twinkly-eyed uncle with hidden
candy in his pockets but as they'd grown older, Quinn had started to
appreciate the stern, serious-minded gentleman who gave him the chance to
seek his own dreams. Obviously someone out there hadn't shared the same
feelings about Maurice.

"My mistake. At that time, I didn't realize it was the same dagger. I
believe I was too busy getting over the surprise of finding my uncle
bleeding all over the Aubusson to admire the make of the dagger," Quinn
added with a sardonic curl of his lip.

"Point taken." Noting down his comments, the detective turned back and
stared at the tea set Quinn had prepared.

Placing the tray on the coffee table, Quinn poured out a cup for the
detective and made his offer. "Have a drink first."

"I don't think I should.." Adam had no choice but to refuse. Previously,
there had been other suspects who had tried their sorry moves on him but
no one had managed to unsettle him as much as Quinton Post, which made
him ever so dangerous.

This time, Quinn simply wasn't taking no for an answer and pressed the
cup on the detective. "Relax, Lieutenant, it's tea. From one of our first
farms in Fujian."

"I've..." As Quinn handed over the dainty cup to him, the detective had
no choice but to hold it. Accepting the cup, he was obliged to take a
seat opposite the one Quinn had vacated earlier. The faint fragrance of
jasmine wafted to his nose as he took in a deep breath.

"Take it. It's only tea. Surely that's acceptable on the job." A sly grin
crept over Quinn's handsome face. "Anyway, I don't intend to get you
thoroughly drunk this early in our relationship."

Deciding to ignore the innuendo as he had earlier, Adam took a tentative
sip. "It smells wonderful."

Pleased with his accomplishment, Quinn poured another cup for himself.
"It should, my great-grandfather personally picked out the leaves. Rumour
has it he met and romanced my Chinese great-great grandmother at the same
time but that didn't stop him from getting the leaves that make one of
the costliests tea leaves in the world."

"You seem to know a lot about a company that you claimed to have turned
your back on," Adam ventured carefully.

"I dind't turn my back on anything or anyone. Post Industries has always
been - and always will be important to me," Quinn said carefully as he
watched the teacup balanced in his hands. This was an area that had to be
treaded carefully. Before his uncle's death, Maurice had been looking
into several deals in the company that involved his cousins and from what
he'd said, he didn't seem all that happy. As diplomatically as he could,
he replied. "My cousins are doing a creditable job in my place but that
doesn't mean I've shirked my duties completely. Though it might not
interest you in the least, I am still a major shareholder in the company
and although I've been away, I do keep an eye on activities happening
back home."

The detective smiled grimly. "You wrong me. Anything that might have a
connection to Marcus Post's murder interests me greatly."

"Do I interest you?" Quinn said matter-of-factly as he leaned over to top
up Adam's cup.

"What?" The pointed question startled him for a moment, throwing him off
balance. "In the process of a murder investigation, yes."

The diplomatic reply to his inappropriate questions only served to get
Quinn's goat. Certainly it was far too early to make such announcements
but the man's cool reticence only made Quinn ever more aggressive and he
leaned forward with a question in his green eyes. "Only in your official
capacity, Lieutenant? Or can I call you Adam?"

"It's Lieutenant Li, Mr Post," he reiterated.

Quinn's lips curled up in a grin. "Stubborn. But I've always liked
stubborn men."

That certainly hadn't been on Quinton Post's official report but Adam
wasn't surprised. Not much was written about Quinton apart from what here
was in his official bio. Apart from his spectacular looks and his
experience in the field of journalism, there had been no mention of any
living spouse or partners in his life. There could be no doubt however of
where his sexual interests lay. The slow, appraising look he'd received
triggered several alarm bells in his head. Naivete wasn't his strong
suit, Adam Li knew that he looked presentable enough to draw some looks
but he had never gotten quite the same look from anyone before. Desire,
lust and hunger stripped him to the skin, leaving him bare.

The emotion in the green eyes rattled him but Adam refused to let it
show. Keeping his hands steady, he slipped out and turned on his
communicator. "Li, Lieutenant Adam conducting an interview with Post,
Quinton in subject's residence. I believe you already understand your
rights and obligations regarding this interview."

"Yes." It was interesting watching the detective at work and it made
Quinn even more determined to rattle him. Taking a sip from his cup, he
murmured lazily. "Sexy voice, Lieutenant. Ever thought of going
on-screen?"

"I believe you had an appointment with the deceased on the night of his
death. Where were you on that night?"

"Is this the interview part? I thought we did this before." Encountering
the stern, uncompromising gaze, Quinn laughed and finally gave in. "Well,
if you insist, Lieutenant. I believe I was enjoying a book in my bed
actually. Feeling alone and cold and wishing for some company."

Ignoring that bit of whimsy, Adam continued dispassionately. "What time
was that?"

"Between 7 to 8, I believe. I believe I had some fried noodles for
dinner. Quite delicious actually."

"Don't be snide, Mr Post. We could always continue the conversation in
Central."

"A threat?" The implication only made Quinn's smile grow even wider.
There was no doubt in his mind that the detective was quite capable of
carrying out such a threat but the hassle would be considerable and
certainly not worth his time. Still the thought pleased him for some
perverse reason and he wondered what odd streak in his personality had
him going for such a man. "You really do interest me greatly. Tell me
Lieutenant, what would you do if I were to lean over and kiss you?"

"What?"

If he'd wanted to catch the cop unawares, Quinn had certainly achieved
his goal. The cop looked like he'd been whacked with a sledgehammer right
across his head. "It's a simple enough question. What would you do if I
were to kiss you?"

Physically - and mentally, Adam Li took a step back from the question.
"Don't even think about it."

It tickled Quinn to see the dangerous looking man leaning back on his
seat to avoid him. The sheer size and power of his firm, muscular arms
were evident, even beneath the heavy jacket and it was obvious from his
file that the man could wipe the floor with him. And yet the detective
was palpably afraid. The thought of his excellent arms - and the rest of
the delectable package had Quinn's voice sliding down a pitch as he
murmured, "You're too late, Adam. Already done it - and thinking of doing
even more."

A streak of colour shaded the edges of the detective's cheekbones but he
remained in control. "You were alone, all that time. Did you speak with
anyone, see anyone during that time?"

Wondering how far he could push the detective, Quinn taunted him.
"Avoiding the question, Adam."

"Please just answer the question, Mr Post."

Little darts of anger had surfaced in the depths of those black eyes and
Quinn could only smile. "Ah, smart boy. You do know that begging in that
sexy baritone of yours will get you everywhere with me."

"Just answer the question." A touch of impatience had crept into that
dispassionate voice.

"Masterful. I like that too." Quinn knew he sounded like a badly produced
gay porn vid but he found that he enjoyed needling the man. Long ago
deciding that there was a streak of perversion in his personality that
made him lust after the most difficult men, Quinn realized that this was
the most challenging chase yet.

"I should remind you, Mr Post, that you are on record here."

"Good."

Flipping off the recorder, the detective glowered, his damned sexy mouth
settling in something between a scowl and a pout. A moment passed as
their gazes met and there was a second when Quinn almost felt as if the
detective would reach over to throttle him but though he braced himself
for the anticipated attack, the moment fizzled out and nothing happened.
Hoping and wishing for those great big arms to reach over and grab him,
Quinn was to be disappointed as the detective quickly pulled himself out
of the chair and started pacing around the living room.

Annoyed with his weakness, Adam took a few steps towards the windows and
stood staring at the view with his back to the suspect. "Did you see
anyone during that time?"

The earlier moment had passed and Quinn wondered what had gone through
the detective's mind. Holding up his hands in mock surrender, Quinn let
out a sigh. "Alright, you win. I was all alone as I said before. Read the
Joy of Gay Sex and thought of putting it into practise. Until about half
past 8 when I started getting dressed to meet my uncle."

Glancing over his shoulder, he spoke softly. "Baiting me will get you
nowhere, Mr Post."

The smile on Quinn's face never dimmed. "But it is so much fun. And I am
not only baiting you, I am quite interested in you, Li Xian Long."

The mention of his full name had the man slightly taken aback as he came
to the realization that he had probably been investigated himself.
Wondering what else had been uncovered about his past, Adam closed his
eyes, searching for the words. "Even if I were interested, I don't
socialize with suspects, Mr Post. You are a major shareholder in Post
Industries - with a possibility of earning even a bigger share of the pie
with your uncle's death. You have just told me that you own a pearl
dagger much like the one used on your uncle. You don't have much of an
alibi on the night of his death."

Standing himself, Quinn walked over to where the detective stood, staring
into the darkness. The other man's handsome, sculpted profile was brought
into relief by the moonlight, features gilded in silver, and all Quinn
could think of was whether Adam Li would look as good lying naked in his
new bed. Hard enough to talk about murder when all he wanted to do was
kiss the cop, Quinn thought with a smile. "Look, Lieutenant, do I strike
you as a fool? If I really was planning to murder someone, it would have
been very careless of me not to provide myself with an alibi, don't you
think?"

Sliding his glance over, Adam aimed a cool, black-eyed glare. "Or
terribly arrogant."

It was a good point and Quinn smiled. "You know me so well. I believe we
should get engaged. Are you free this Saturday?"

"Murder's not a laughing matter, Mr Post."

"No, it isn't," he said in complete agreement. Since Quinn had been
involved in his own share of grisly murders in New York, he understood
completely. Crime and punishment might be the detective's business but it
didn't mean Quinn was a patent amateur. Nosing about for clues had always
been his specialty and that had certainly served him well during his
tenure on Channel 88's premiere news team. "I know I didn't do it but you
obviously have some doubts on that. So why aren't you carting me off to
the cage right now?"

"Your motive for one," Adam admitted quietly.

"I believe some would say that achieving the goal of Tai Pan would be
motive enough."

"Yes, it would." Placing his open palm on the glass, Adam stared out and
gave a slow nod of understanding. "For some but not you. A man who
refused to helm the company and walked away from all that wouldn't return
for that goal when he could have had it all on a silver platter five
years ago."

"Who knows, you might have gotten me all wrong." Leaning with one elbow
braced on the windows, Quinn took in the view in front of him. Sure, he
was paying a bundle to have the gorgeous view but it certainly couldn't
compare with the view of the clean-cut lieutenant standing at his
windows. "Dealing with the cutthroats of the media world, I could have
changed my mind."

"You could." Adam tapped his fingers rhythmically on the glass. "Which is
why you are still on the list of suspects."

"Touche." Quinn laughed.

"You are making this difficult." Running his hand up his face, Adam
nudged his glasses up and pinched the skin above his nose. "Cooperate
with me, Mr Post."

"Call me Quinn."

"Will you cooperate if I do so?" he challenged me with a glimmer of a
smile.

It occurred to me the reason why the man kept his lips tightly zipped.
That sexy smile, if used too often, would be lethal. "That depends."

Turning to aim a cool glance at the other man, Adam remained silent for a
moment. From the banked fire in those black eyes, Quinn wondered whether
the brain of the cop would take over and he'd be kicking his heels in
Central for the night.

There was almost a moment of relief when the detective finally gave in
and sighed. "Fine, if that's the way you want it. Quinn."