She was certain Daniela would love to show off her cooking during their stay using the now handy traditional ingredients and Bajan recipes. She was relieved, as they were a world away from her go-to takeout market for dinner.
At night after she tucked in David, she sipped the local rum cocktail that was surprisingly light, unlike rum punch Americans consume on vacation. After relaxing while reading a few chapters of the romance novel she’d brought, she fell into a peaceful sleep.
She was awakened by Len, her bodyguard, when he lightly knocked then cracked her bedroom door open. With his index finger pressed against his lips, he motioned her to quietly go to David’s room. She knew it was so he could protect them both from the same location. Her pistol was lying on the nightstand, and she clutched it in one hand before doing as he asked. Someone was attempting to break into the villa, and she’d protect her son.
The sound of shattering glass left a clue to the entry point of the break-in. She waited with her pistol cocked for the intruder’s presence. Through the cracked bedroom door, she could see the bodyguard taking aim and then an eerie stillness penetrated the cottage. They waited. Minutes seemed like hours before the bodyguard waved her out of the room, indicating it was safe. She knew sleep was over for her and put on a pot of coffee for them to drink while they waited for daylight. Then they could explore around the cottage to determine additional damage that needed repair before night.
Her thoughts went to Daniela, and was glad she was with family. Knowing about this incident would trigger recent memories of her kidnapping and she’d fear for their safety. She and the bodyguard would assess the damage, and have it repaired before she returned. David was sleeping soundly when she peeked in on him.
After sunrise, she and her bodyguard went outside to determine damage to the villa. How an intruder penetrated the security gate leading to the villa was unclear. A security code was required for entry. They found one windowpane on the back door shattered. The intruder had hoped to gain entry by breaking the pane and reaching through to unlock the door when someone or something stopped him. Perhaps security was patrolling the area and scared or caught him. She’d chosen the westside of the island for security, new construction, and calmer seas. Was it possible she was getting all three?
They decided to not report the incident to the Royal Barbados Police Force. The attempted break-in might result in being flagged for violence, and even asked to vacate the island. Plus, she didn’t want the police around to disturb David and Daniela. They’d get through this, and everything would be back to normal. She called the villa’s management office and made a maintenance request. They assured her the work would be completed by noon.
Soaking wet from his late-night deep-sea excursion and tired, Walker returned home and changed out of his clothes and placed them in a trash bag for disposal at a nearby restaurant dumpster. He’d gotten bloody dragging the body to his car and lifting his stiff bulk into the trunk for the drive to his watery grave.
He was glad he was paying attention to details and wrote down the security code to enter Sydney’s residential community. Otherwise, the assassin would’ve carried out his hit. The employer was thorough in providing access to the victim. He circled back again to the belief that this someone was a hacker with high-level technical skills.
Much like the employer who placed a contract for kill, he’d prepared for silencing and stopping him. He waited outside Sydney’s cottage until he showed. When the mercenary took a tire iron and broke the glass pane on the door, Walker pounced. The would-be assassin never knew what hit him. With dead aim and a silencer, Walker dropped him, then dragged him to his car and dumped him into the trunk, where he’d placed a tarp to keep blood from soaking through the flooring. A short drive to his skiff he used for scuba-diving off the island and he disposed of the body wrapped in the tarp from his trunk, weighted with a heavy chain, into the Atlantic Ocean.
One down and more coming. He was reminded of when he was head of her security force. Always someone gunning for her; and she didn’t help matters by taking controversial criminal cases. Looking back, the difference was he wasn’t disposing of bodies that could lead to a public hanging. On his part, there was a love-hate relationship. Of course, she’d never know, for Walker was dead. Yet, his son was alive; that was worth the risk he’d taken.
Daniela returned to the villa with her bubbly personality in full swing. A night with her family did wonders. She was ready to take David on an educational scenic tour of the island and with Sydney’s blessings, to meet her family.
Sydney’s plan was to lounge beside the cottage’s private pool and relax with no one around to interfere with her thoughts. Her bodyguard was to go with Daniela and her son to assure their safety. They didn’t have to discuss last night’s events; he knew Daniela would freak out if she knew what happened.
When Daniela returned, she’d picked up some vegetables and stewing beef to make a hearty stew—Bajan Pepper Pot. She said it would get tastier when reheated over the next couple of days. First, she thought David should tell Sydney about his day and she’d start cooking dinner.
David was still smiling from his sightseeing around Bridgetown and meeting Daniela’s family. He blabbered his favorites so fast she could barely understand him.
He reached into his little pocket and showed her a treasure Daniela’s mother gave him; a Barbados beach sand locket necklace.
“Nice,” she said. “Did you say thank you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. You can show your friends when we get home.”
He nodded and went to his room to watch cartoons with his locket shoved back into his pocket.
Sydney caught up on her emails while dinner was cooking. She was relieved nothing death-defying was going on at the office. When she returned, she’d probate Nancy Lynn’s will. When she’d suggested making one, she had no idea Nancy Lynn would be murdered. She was helping her account for her new holdings, to get a grip on her finances for future investments. She’d reluctantly agreed to act as administrator, and Nancy Lynn had left a significant amount of her estate for Sydney to dispose of as she wished, along with a sizable bequest for her parents.
Sydney missed Nancy Lynn; the first real friend she’d had in years. Unlike her fake friend, Judith Garner, who lied and stole from her, Nancy was genuine.
While lounging by the pool, she’d decided to contact a realtor and sell the Buckhead condo Liu Chang left Nancy Lynn in his will. The price would be negotiable, for it was where he was murdered. Although a prestigious area, many prospective homeowners didn’t want to buy and live where a murder occurred. She couldn’t blame them. She’d never be able to return to the safe house where Nancy Lynn was murdered, so it would be sold too. She’d buy another one for keeping clients safe, as needed.
She’d donate the proceeds from Liu Chang’s condo to charity. Nancy Lynn’s jewelry and collectables, she’d keep for selling later. A new movie she was starring in would be released soon. Depending on its success, her valuables might be in demand and she could sell them and donate to a charity that helps struggling artists.
The relaxing scenery in Barbados overlooking the Caribbean had helped her make peace with Nancy Lynn’s death. Yet, she knew her murderer was still at large and was unsure of how it might affect her, especially since she was administering her will. Times like this was when she missed Walker’s investigative skills.
Walker was keeping track on the dark web to see if another hit had been posted on Sydney. Apparently, the killer decided Barbados posed too many problems for a successful mission. Now, she was being targeted in Atlanta upon her return. He couldn’t go, even with his new cover, as the CIA might be tracking her. They’d investigate his interest, and even with his new identity, might get lucky, at the least they’d know they had ties. The best he could do was to investigate her staff and see if one of the litigators posed a problem. They’d been do
wn that road before, but thought her new head of security would’ve vetted new employees carefully, given her history.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The Chinese Connection
Sydney gave Daniela the day off to be with her family, as they were leaving on a morning flight to Atlanta. She and David would enjoy the cottage’s pool and later beachcombing for seashells and sea glass abundant on the west coast near their villa. They’d be selective and choose one or two unique pieces to take home.
They’d finish her Pepper Pot stew, even tastier when reheated as the evening meal. Daniela had packed her and David’s bags and left out traveling clothes for the trip home.
She was organized and great with David, who considered her family. Sydney wanted her to continue employment and her education in the States. She’d been taking online courses in education and wanted to teach elementary children. Yet, in times of distress she wanted to return to Barbados, and if nothing else, work at one of the resorts. Sydney couldn’t guarantee a stress-free or safe work environment. She’d tried.
The flight home was smooth, and the Uber van she’d ordered picked them up for the commute to her townhome. The first night’s dinner was ordered in from a nearby restaurant and everyone went about their normal activities.
When she tucked David into bed, he was sleepy but happy. He’d even grown taller, it seemed, on their vacation, and with his suntan, he was looking undeniably like his father, Walker. Another addition to the rumor mill about her, if anyone noticed who knew him. She was past caring, and had never divulged her son’s patrimony, for it was no one’s business but his—when he was older.
She’d gone over Daniela’s plans for David for the week and approved, with the bodyguard tagging along at a safe distance. She had plenty to do at work and breathed a sigh of relief that she didn’t need to worry about her son.
The office was swarming with new clients when she arrived. The CEO met with her to bring her up to date on clients the partnership was handling. She turned over selecting a realtor to represent the estate in disposing of Nancy Lynn’s property and her own to her assistant, with directives to notify her about pricing before placing on the market.
Her next order of business was the probate of Liu Chang’s will. She met with her top Chinese attorney, Cheng Li, a computer technology expert and litigator. He assured her the account was in the final stage of administration. To speed up the process, he was flying to Beijing to personally handle the completion of his Chinese properties and gain the necessary signatures to finalize his probate. She agreed it was the best move to complete the administration of his will.
Cheng Li checked his email before closing his laptop to catch his flight to Beijing. He’d received a message from Ming Chang. She’d be waiting at the airport for his arrival. He’d called an Uber, although the partnership would provide transportation. He wasn’t comfortable around the security team.
He looked forward to seeing Ming again. They’d grown close during his administration of her husband’s will. He understood her feelings of being shamed by her husband’s flaunting his mistress above her and the desire to own his US property.
She’d taken care of their home and his aging parents while he enjoyed freedom from his responsibilities. She was smart and technically inclined. She’d studied online computer courses while her husband was away; so much so that after his death, his associates, the Black Society, approached her about taking his seat in the organization. She was considering the possibilities.
Cheng Li wanted to stay on her good side. He’d noted the top tech companies in the US were eyeing China for expansion. He could exceed his salary with perks to land a job with one of these companies. Knowing Mandarin and the dialects of the Asian language, he would be a prime candidate and could return home and watch as China landed the top destination for American tourist dollars.
He needed to get Ming to back off. She was harboring a desire to take over her husband’s US holdings. They’d gone to his mistress, and she’d not want to mess with Sydney to get them. If she’d wait, she could pick up the Buckhead property for dimes on the dollar. He knew Sydney. She’d let it go for nothing compared to its value because it was a scene of a murder. He could put Ming in touch with the realtor representing the sale and she could make a bid anonymously. He’d help.
Ming met him at the airport and invited him to stay in her home during his stay. There was plenty of room, and she seldom had guests for intellectual conversation. He agreed.
Her home was one of the finest in Beijing and she was a cordial host, putting him immediately at ease. Her house staff uncorked an expensive bottle of imported red wine, symbolizing good luck in China, and she toasted their meeting. He raised his glass slightly below hers, showing respect, and consumed the drink.
After a light meal, knowing he was tired after the long flight, she showed him to his bedroom suite. He spoke his appreciation for understanding. They’d talk business tomorrow.
Early the following morning, Ming offered a breakfast of douzhi, fermented bean juice, and jiaoquan, crispy circles of fried dough, on the side for dipping. Afterwards, she showed him the garden and said, “It’s lovely outside today; let’s talk business here.”
“Let me get my briefcase with the paperwork, and I’ll meet you here.”
“I’ll be waiting.” She was clipping the buds of the peony with her long-manicured fingernails, snipping the flowerhead off as he left. The symbolism wasn’t lost on him. Ming would butcher anyone getting in her way of owning her husband’s US property.
Shortly, he returned. He dove into Liu Chang’s Chinese business first. She only needed to sign the legal documents where marked. Something that could’ve been handled from Atlanta if not for his desire to talk about her husband’s US holdings.
She needed to know Sydney was a dangerous and influential foe and there were options for succeeding with her plan of ownership. He had no doubt she was guilty of a crime of passion against her husband. But if she wanted to travel freely to the US, she needed to leave Sydney alone, at least for the present, until she distanced herself from government scrutiny.
Ming listened to his proposal. He noticed her using the Taoist breathing method to stay calm and control her reactions. She was breathing slowly with a half-smile on her face. When he finished, she congratulated him for a reasonable plan for overtaking her husband’s property.
She’d play by his rules for now to achieve her long-term goals. He promised to email her with the realtor’s name involved in the sale of the Atlanta property and guidance for achieving the first right of refusal in case others were interested. When she was ready to make the offer, he’d complete the paperwork using a shell corporation as the offeror. Later, when no one was watching, he’d transfer the property into her name. She agreed.
Their business was concluded, and he’d return to the States in the morning. She wanted to celebrate with dinner at the best upscale food street in Beijing—Fucheng Street. This 3-kilometer-long street served regional Chinese cuisines; Hunan, Sichuan, and Jiangsu. Notwithstanding, several Cantonese restaurants featuring seafood ranked amongst the best in Beijing. He missed the sights, sounds, and food of his homeland, and readily accepted her invitation.
They had a lighthearted evening sampling the delicious dishes and drinks until late into the night. He noted she needed more adult interaction with her own age to not be pulled down into the depths of dealing with the chronic illnesses of her husband’s parents. He’d made sure the properties inherited from her husband would go to her son upon her fathers-in-law’s death, following traditional Chinese inheritance laws. The looks of things said, it wouldn’t be long. And, that would be when Ming would strike back at Sydney for her dealings supporting her husband’s mistress.
Their banter continued back to her lavish home. From too much to drink or just having someone to talk to, she said she’d decided to take the Black Society’s of
fer. She’d be the first woman they’d added to their board to replace an existing member, and it would provide aliases for traveling to the States and setting up a home.
There was no doubt in his mind she could fill her husband’s shoes; probably exceed expectations. She’d be someone to be careful of in the future if going against her wishes.
He said goodbye and boarded his flight to Atlanta. He was surprised she went to the airport to see him off. When he returned, he’d record the documents she signed at the courthouse and send her copies and the contact information for buying her husband’s property after he talked with Sydney.
Next was getting his name in the pool for employment with large tech companies setting up offices in Beijing. He was ready to go home with a large paycheck and options for a brighter corporate future. With Sydney’s run-ins with the Chinese nationals and government, he was confident his tenure at the partnership was on the skids.
He scheduled a meeting with Sydney to discuss the finalization of the administration of Liu Chang’s will and quietly gain information about the realtor in charge of selling his Buckhead condo.
She was so pleased with an end to Chang’s business, she eagerly told him about the realtor and asking price for the property. He asked her the bottom dollar she was willing to accept. She quoted what he expected—dimes on the dollar. He’d let Ming know and setup her dummy business entity to make the offer. He wished he was making a commission, for it was still a hefty selling price. A perk he should consider when agreeing to a new position in Beijing.
Chance Page 13
