The Shanghai Concession in 1938 was like rotten cotton soaked in the rain, sticky and stuffy. The waves of the Huangpu River lapped at the dock barges and crushed the shadows of the Japanese gunboats on the water. Yi Qian parked the Ford truck in the shadow of the back alley of the warehouse, her fingertips still stained with the blood of traitor detective team leader Wang Ergou.
The stone walls of the fortress were seeping with moisture, and Yi Qian's fingers were still pressing on the panels.
