It took Caldwell and Mei Lin almost ten minutes to reach the entrance to the university. A couple of sleek oblong taxis were queued up at the taxi stand, their electrics idling. Wang Lin had disappeared. Mei Lin handed Caldwell a roll of New China Yuan and a credit chip and jumped into the first taxi. The automatic doors swished shut and the vehicle slid sideways into traffic. Caldwell got into the second taxi. The driver, an old weather-beaten man with short spiky gray hair and a mole at the back of his neck with a single strand of hair growing out of it, turned round and gave him the once over. Caldwell had a feeling he was going to need all the Mandarin he could muster.

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