Victor stopped laughing. 'What did you say?'

Elena met his eyes. 'I asked whether your guests would like a private room.'

'In Japanese?'

'Yes.'

'Anybody can memorize a sentence.'

Masato spoke for the first time in several minutes. He asked Elena a complicated question about a manufacturing warranty, using terminology that even experienced commercial interpreters sometimes stumbled over. Elena responded without hesitation, clarifying the distinction between a contractual guarantee and the more limited duty to repair. The chairman's face remained still, but he placed both hands flat on the table.

'You have worked with these contracts,' he said in English.

'Not this one.'

Victor set down his glass too hard. Wine stained the white cloth. 'All right. Very clever. One million dollars, then. Why don't you tell us where you learned that trick?'

Elena looked toward the doorway. The stranger who had risen near the bar was gone. On the table beside Victor lay a document bearing a small square stamp in violet ink. She could see only three characters from where she stood, but they were enough.

They matched the stamp on the final file her father had sent her before he disappeared.

'Before we discuss the money,' Elena said, 'I think your guests should know exactly which version of the contract they're being asked to sign.'

And for the first time that evening, Victor Sloane looked afraid.

Chapter 2 — The Version That Vanished

Nobody answered Elena's statement at once.

Rain ticked against the long windows of the Marlowe Room. Somewhere below, traffic moved through Chicago streets like a slow current of red light. Victor Sloane glanced at his general counsel, Clara Bennett, and offered a practiced smile that did not reach his eyes.

'Now that's an accusation,' he said. 'I hope you understand the difference between an amusing language demonstration and interfering in a commercial transaction.'

'I understand the difference,' Elena replied. 'That's why I made a statement about versions, not about anyone's intentions.'