Excerpt from Whispering Shadows by Jan-Philipp Sendker, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name the first time. Of course I remember. Are you feeling better?"

Silence. He heard noises from the street and her breathing, but not her voice. "Hello?" he said to her. "Is everything all right?"

"I need your help," she said. "Can we meet?"

"Meet?" he repeated, not sure whether he had understood her correctly.

"Yes."

"When?"

"Now."

"Oh God, that's not at all convenient, I . . ."

"It's extremely urgent," she interrupted. "Please, Mr. Leibovitz." He heard her voice cracking and suddenly its trembling sound seemed as familiar to him as her face had been yesterday.

"Where are you now?"

"In front of the police station in . . ."

Paul heard the roar of traffic in the background and a man's voice saying, "In Admiralty, honey."

"I'll be at your hotel in two hours."

———

Elizabeth was waiting for him in the lobby. She was even paler than Paul had remembered from yesterday. Her skin seemed almost transparent: Blue veins were prominent on her temples and her chin. Her eyes were red rimmed and her hair straggled over her face. She took him by both hands and pressed them firmly. "Thank you so much for coming so quickly." She gestured toward the man by her side. "This is my husband, Richard."

Richard Owen stretched his hand out in greeting. He was a bear of a man, and his age was as difficult to guess as his wife's. His hair was flecked with gray but thick, and his face was tanned and taut, as though the passing of the years were nothing to him. He was at least six feet two inches tall, with broad shoulders and a solid torso, though not portly, and had bushy eyebrows and very long arms. His handshake and his deep, insistent voice made Paul wince.

The Owens led him to a ready-laid table in the lobby. On the other side of the window, which climbed over three floors from floor to ceiling, was a picture-postcard view of the Hong Kong skyline. They ordered coffee for all three of them and a whiskey as well for Mr. Owen.

"Mr. Leibovitz," Elizabeth Owen said in a quiet voice. "We'd like to ask you to help us." Paul could see that she was making an effort not to lose her composure. She swallowed a few times and her eyes filled with tears.

"How can I help you?"

"We . . . We're looking for our son. He's disappeared."

Paul felt the blood drain away from his face and he felt dizzy for a moment.

"Your son?" he heard himself say.

"Michael. Michael Owen," she said in a way that implied that he must know him.

"What do you mean when you say he disappeared?"

"He traveled to Shenzhen two days ago and was meant to be back that evening. We've heard nothing more from him since."

"What did he want to go to China for?"

"We have a factory just on the other side of the border, in Guangdong Province," her husband explained quietly, when he realized that his wife's voice was gradually giving out on her. "He had a lunch appointment with our business partner Mr. Tang, Victor Tang. But he never turned up to that appointment."

Paul had no idea what he ought to say. He could feel his heart racing and his breathing growing shallow. He wanted to comfort the woman. He wanted to say to her that she mustn't worry, that surely nothing had happened, that everything would be cleared up in a few hours. That everything would be fine. He was unable to speak. I'm sorry to have to tell you . . .

"We talked to the Hong Kong police this morning, but they weren't very helpful. You're the only Western person I know in this city and you said yesterday that you've lived here a long time, so I thought . . ." She did not finish her sentence.

Paul nodded mutely.

She turned to him and gave him a pleading look of desperation that moved him in a way that he found almost unbearable.

Excerpted from Whispering Shadows by Jan-Philipp Sendker. Copyright © 2015 by Jan-Philipp Sendker. Excerpted by permission of 37 Ink/Atria Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.