by Darin Gibby
Now they had a baby boy just shy of four weeks old.
He cracked the garage door, squeezed through, and switched his phone back on. He received a notification that his office had a text containing a photo.
He studied the image on his cell phone while he opened the door to his Buick. It showed a photo of a man pointing a flare gun—and it revealed the fuzzy image of a tattoo on the man’s forearm. It looked Arabic, but it could just have easily been Greek. The accompanying message indicated that the photo was submitted anonymously.
ID? Jesse texted back.
Nothing yet, can’t even figure out what it says, came the answer.
Going to forensics lab, Jesse typed back, then plopped himself in his car and activated the garage door opener.
Hindy, he thought. Funny name. Why would this guy shoot a toy blimp? He was going to find out.
4
BY THE NEXT day, Addy had learned that getting to work without a car was a painful lesson in green austerity.
By the time she arrived, she’d missed two scheduled phone calls, one with a patent examiner, and another with an inventor trying to patent a new type of ceramic specially designed for a hydrogen fuel cell. And the emails were piling up. Addy hung up the phone just as Perry sauntered in and closed the door. He collapsed in the sole chair in front of her desk.
“Got a minute?”
“No, but I suppose we should talk. Have a seat.”
He smiled and straightened his tie, then gazed out the window at the neighboring Indian restaurant. In the courtyard, a couple was sipping coffee, enjoying the morning sunshine. Perry linked his hands behind his head and stretched out.
Addy bit her lower lip and tried to calm herself. She worried that this would be a long conversation.
“I’ve seen a lot over the last three decades. Semiconductors booming, then busting, Apple rising from the dust, ten thousand internet companies coming and going, the dominance of Google and Facebook.”
“Silicon Valley is the place to be if you want to be a successful inventor,” Addy said.
Perry stood and went to the window. Addy looked up to the ceiling and told herself to relax.
“And the best thing that happened to me over those fast-paced years,” Perry’s breath hitched, “was Keri.”
His head dropped forward, his shoulders heaving slightly. She couldn’t decide whether to go comfort him or pretend it wasn’t happening. Any display of emotion was completely out of character for him. Perry, the highest-paid partner in the firm, was all about business. His world revolved around himself and his clients.
“I’m so sorry,” she said when she realized he truly was on the ragged edge emotionally.
Perry stood and tried to compose himself. He kept his back to her while he spoke.
“I had no idea I would miss her this much. Perry and Keri, people often joked about how we were such a good match.” Perry turned to face her, his eyes moist. “We tried to have children, but it never worked out. Keri could never get pregnant. We tried every test, went to see every fertility specialist. We never adopted because we both believed one day it would magically happen. But it never did. You should know that Keri was so happy when she first met you. You were like the daughter she never had.”
Addy felt sorry for Perry’s loss and appreciated what he’d done to make her partner, but she also wondered if Keri was the real reason behind the special treatment. She wanted no part of nepotism. She wanted to earn her success. Still, his story resonated.
“I guess we both know what it’s like to be alone in the world,” she said.
Perry nodded. Over dinner one night, she’d shared her story with him, about being born in Vietnam, then put up for adoption by her birth parents. She was adopted by an American couple living in Cyprus, California, but their fairy-tale family never worked out. Addy grew up with the understanding that her adoptive father had fallen out of love with his wife two years after the adoption. After that, he completely disappeared from Addy’s life.
Her adoptive mother had been unable to deal with the divorce, which led to alcohol addiction, then pot, then meth. Addy fended for herself by hanging out at friends’ houses, devouring whatever she was offered from their refrigerators, and sometimes even sleeping on their couches. Through high school, Addy clung to the belief that the only things she could trust in life were getting good grades, making a life for herself, and being on her own.
Along the way, she also fell in love with science. Science never lets you down, she often thought. It was the one thing she could fully trust. Her hard work paid off when she was accepted to MIT, funded almost completely by the university’s scholarship fund for the underprivileged.
Addy sometimes wondered whether Perry even remembered the story of her traumatic upbringing. Even if he did, had he ever realized the significance of what she told him? Did Perry even care about her life? Did he have any compassion in his soul? Did he realize what it was like to grow up alone? Now that he’d lost Keri, perhaps a few of the scales covering his hardened heart were ready to fall.
“I didn’t come here to feel sorry for myself,” he said, quickly returning to the business at hand. “I need a favor. I have your first assignment as a partner.”
Addy perked up. This was the Perry she knew, barking out orders.
“With Keri’s passing, there are a thousand loose ends I need to tie up. I’m supposed to attend the Asian patent conference next week in Hanoi, but I just can’t make it. I need you to go in my place.”
Addy’s eyes widened. She had a passion for travel, but she’d never been outside the United States as an adult.
Every year a large part of the Asian patent profession met in a different city to discuss the latest patent trends, and, more importantly, to do business with each other. Every country had its own patent laws, which meant that in order to patent a product globally, a separate patent application had to be lodged in every target country. Because every foreign jurisdiction had its own rules about what was and wasn’t patentable, it was necessary to retain local patent attorneys in each country. The annual gathering was where those filings could be coordinated—and new business secured.
“You’ve got a great jump start on your client base, but you’re going to need more to move up the partner ranks. You’ve got the perfect background for this conference, being from Vietnam and all.”
Addy bristled, straightening her spine. She’d always sensed his lack of enthusiasm for any firm program with even a hint of diversity. Sure, he said all the right words at firm events, but deep down she questioned his commitment to helping anyone who wasn’t white.
“Perry, need I remind you that I don’t speak Vietnamese, or Japanese, or Korean, just a little bit of Spanish that I learned in my American high school.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he responded quickly. “I just meant that . . . Well, forget what I said. What I mean is that over the years I’ve developed a large network of international patent attorneys, and they feed the firm millions of dollars. I think you’re the right person to take over for me, and now is the perfect time, regardless of where you were born.”
Addy nodded. Blunder or not, she was thrilled. Not only would she get to visit her birthplace but there was a vast, new market for her to tap into. She’d go the first year, learn the ropes, soak up the etiquette and protocols, then be prepared the following year with a strategy.
“I’ll go,” she said. “It sounds like a great opportunity. Thanks for thinking of me.”
“I’ll email you the details and the itinerary. You’re going to be extremely busy, because I already have about twenty meetings set up. Be prepared for jet lag, and try not to get too frustrated if you can’t understand broken English. You’re going to hear a lot of it. Why don’t you connect with Janice to see if she can handle your docket while you’re away? With the time difference, it is next to impossible to keep up with day-to-day matters while you’re overseas.”
She smiled. Perry did love t
o hover. “I’ll manage.”
5
THE THIRTY-MINUTE CAB ride from the Hanoi airport to the conference hotel was one of contrasts. Modern electronics plants made up of campuses dotted with an assortment of factories, office buildings, and stacked parking garages, intermingled with ramshackle huts similar to the favelas in Rio or the cardboard shacks of Tijuana.
When her taxi exited the three-lane freeway it was immediately surrounded by bicycles, rickshaws, and motorbikes, which altogether outnumbered the automobiles five to one. Still, the traffic was fluid, with the small vehicles weaving around the automobiles like water flowing around boulders in a stream.
The streets were lined with cheaply-built storefronts enabling Vietnamese shop owners to hustle potential buyers inside for some inexpensive silk scarves or local Vietnamese cuisine. Her hotel, the new five-star JW Marriott, was shaped like a dragon and looked out over miles of sheet-metal shacks, where wood stove pipes spewed smoke into the air when the poverty-stricken residents cooked their meals.
After being shown her room, Addy changed into business attire, collected her conference materials, and dashed off to the welcome reception at the conference center. It was so humid, her back was covered with sweat by the time she slipped into her seat and clipped on her official badge, one that had Perry’s name crossed out and her own handwritten beneath it.
By the time she was seated, the opening ceremony had already droned on for about an hour, with obligatory speeches given by elderly Asian men in broken English, the official language of the conference. Next, the entertainment featured local Vietnamese folk dancers in brightly colored costumes. While they whirled and danced, Addy slipped out her phone, checked a few emails, and waited for the meeting to end.
A formal reception followed, with catered hors d’oeuvres. Addy didn’t recognize anyone among the sea of brown faces, mostly older men with gray hair. Her stomach growled, and she snatched up the first morsel offered, a piece of coconut shrimp, then stood behind a table half concealed by a large plant, strategizing various ways to drum up new business.
Still hungry, and feeling awkward standing alone, she loaded up a plate at the buffet and returned to the small table, fishing out her phone, and pulling up her calendar so she would look busy. She had an early morning breakfast meeting with three Japanese attorneys whose firm name she recognized from some of the cases they were handling for her own firm.
“Mind if I join you?
Addy looked up, then fumbled her phone, sending it skidding across the table. Her visitor’s hand shot out and snatched it before it hit the floor. Her gaze followed his sleeve up to his broad shoulders, which were draped with a hand-stitched collar. She could feel the heat in her cheeks and wondered if he noticed her blush. His clean-shaven face was vaguely familiar, as was the sound of his resonant, baritone voice.
“That would have been a disaster,” she said.
“We’ve all done it,” he said with a beaming smile, revealing a set of large, extra-white teeth. He handed back the phone. “I’m Quinn Moon.”
“Addy,” she said, taking back her phone.
“Formerly Perry.”
Her mouth twisted until Quinn pointed to her badge, where her mentor’s name was still visible through the strike-through.
“Last minute substitution. Perry’s one of the partners at our firm. He couldn’t make it, some family business. I’m his proxy.”
“Then this is your first time at the conference?”
“Yes, and I feel totally lost. All these people I don’t know, speaking in languages that make my head spin.”
“You’re American?”
“What makes you guess that?”
“Your accent, and your firm name. Wyckoff. I’ve known them for years. They have a stellar reputation.”
Addy studied Quinn’s tag. Unlike all the other name badges, she didn’t see a law firm associated with his name.
“Your English is nearly perfect. But you’re not American.”
“No, don’t I look like it?”
“No more than I do. I was actually born in Vietnam but raised in the States. But don’t expect me to speak Vietnamese.”
“Fair enough. Tell me a little about yourself.”
Addy gave him a quick précis of her background.
“Didn’t go to Stanford?”
“I wish. Couldn’t get accepted. I’m not a good test taker. The LSAT wasn’t kind to me.”
“Looks like it all turned out. Partner, I assume?”
She studied his dark brown eyes, his muscular shoulders and neck, and strong cheekbones. His build was anything but slight. “Just made partner last week, but enough about me. Tell me about yourself.”
“Well, congratulations,” he said, ignoring her request. “Not easy today to make partner, especially with a firm like Wyckoff. You must be good.”
“I can’t read the name of your firm,” she said, cutting him off.
He raised his badge. “Missing, isn’t it? My secretary was late filling out the registration form. I’m associated with a small Korean firm. Hey, by the way, if you know anything about clean tech, I may have a client you’d be interested in.”
She straightened and pushed away her plate. “Very interested.”
Quinn raised his hand and beckoned a passing waiter toting a silver tray with an assortment of wines. “We’ll take two of the reds.”
The woman’s white-gloved hand swiftly slid a pair of wine glasses onto their small table.
“Here’s to your first time in Vietnam,” Quinn said raising his glass.
Addy’s glass remained on the table. “I’m afraid I should have asked for a soda,” she said. “I don’t drink.”
“Really? Not just a little wine every now and then?”
“No, not ever. Sorry to ruin your toast.”
“What?” Quinn probed. “Something religious? Training for a marathon or something like that?”
“I wish it were that easy. It’s more like alcohol hasn’t been a friend to my family. It’s best if I just avoid it entirely.”
Quinn frowned. “I’m so sorry. I totally understand family drama. Why don’t we talk about something more cheerful? What do you know about fuel cells?”
Addy perked up. “My car’s got one under the hood. Well, until—” she stopped herself. Quinn didn’t need to know about her recent run-in with the law. “I’d love to see the day when the gasoline engine is a relic.”
“Might happen sooner than you think.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Lots of people are working on a solution.”
“Including you?”
Quinn took a small sip from his glass. “We should talk once you’re settled in.”
Addy’s phone beeped, and she dove to snatch it off the table. Janice, her paralegal, had sent her a text. Addy plucked it up before he could read the message.
Hindy’s going to stay impounded. Call Perry ASAP, the text read. Addy bit her lower lip.
Quinn raised his eyebrows. “Problem at home?”
“Something’s come up at the office. I’ve got to run. Can we talk later?”
Quinn slipped his fingers into his shirt pocket and handed her a business card. “Send me a text before you leave. I’ll treat you to a soda,” he said with a wink.
The walk from the convention center to the hotel was short, but meandered through a dimly lit, rickety neighborhood. Addy had been assured that in Communist Vietnam crime wasn’t a problem. If a nationalist ever attacked a tourist, the consequences were so severe, execution wasn’t out of the question.
Patent attorneys who’d had their fill of small talk straggled out of the convention center in small groups, bound for their hotels. Addy joined a small group, mostly attorneys from Singapore, who were going in her direction. After a few blocks, they passed a small boutique hotel, and her companions excused themselves, leaving her alone. Luckily, her towering hotel was within sight. Addy picked up her pace and avoided any shadows whil
e she scurried along the dirt sidewalk and passed corrugated metal shutters covering the now-closed shops.
As she sidestepped a deserted food stand, a man leapt out of a darkened alley. His thin leather sandals skated silently over the pavement. Addy stepped aside to avoid him, but he was coming too fast. She could see his coarse black whiskers dance when he smiled, revealing a mouthful of brown teeth.
“You look beautiful in that skirt. You know, I could make one for you.”
Addy put her hand over her chest and took a deep breath the moment she realized this was a tailor trying to peddle his wares, not some maniac.
“I’m late for a phone call, and I need to get back to my hotel right now. Maybe tomorrow I can come see you.”
Addy’s mind raced. What if he attacks? What should I do? A female in a communist country, alone. She shook her head. No, nothing like that would ever happen. Perry assured her that she would be safe, that tourists were worshiped.
“Come on in, come in, let me show you,” he said waving his hand toward the alley.
Addy slowly took a few steps back. “I’m okay.”
He waved again, this time swinging his shoulder. “You really need to come inside. Now,” he snapped.
Someone help me, she prayed. I don’t even know where to find the American Embassy.
From behind, she heard more scuffles. Footsteps. Someone else was behind her. She was boxed in with nowhere to run. She slowly twisted her head, like an owl looking for prey. Behind her was a man with a dark complexion dressed in a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a dark splotch on one arm.
Addy decided to do nothing other than stand erect and confident. If they wanted her in the shop, they would have to drag her kicking and screaming.
The man in front of her continued in his thick Vietnamese accent. “You should go back to America. Now, before anything happens.”
