"I was busy," Sticky said. "Trackin’ those boys from Singapore." He stared into the lenses of Laura’s glasses, visibly gathering himself up, talking through her to the Rizome videotapes spooling in Atlanta. "This, while our Rizome security still dancin’ like a chicken with its head lick off, mind. The Singapore gang ran off first thing after the killing. So I track ’em in darkness. They run maybe half a mile south down the coast, then wade out to a smart yacht, waitin’, so cozy, right offshore. A good-size ketch; two other men aboard. I get the registry number." He snorted. "Rented by Mr. Lao Binh Huynh, a so-call ‘prominent Viet-American businessman,’ live in Houston. Rich man this Huynh—run half a dozen groceries, a hotel, a truckin’ business."