Ruse

by Cindy Pon

  I pushed away from the wall, and Iris grabbed my jacket cuff. She pointed at her ear. I removed my earpiece and tossed it to her before turning the corner and ringing the doorbell at the grand wooden door. If I hesitated, I might have lost my nerve. There was no movement or noise from the other side for some time. Maybe she had fallen asleep? Relieved, I was about to turn on my heel when the door cracked open, and I could see Daiyu peering out.

  “Jason?” she said. “What are you doing here?”

  Fuck.

  “I . . . I wanted to see you,” I muttered. “I was hoping we could talk. I heard about your father’s gala tonight and guessed you’d be staying in the hotel too.”

  “How’d you get access to this floor?” she asked.

  I shrugged uncomfortably and stuck my hands into my pockets. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

  She pulled the door open wider, so I saw all of her. She was dressed in a soft gold qipao embroidered with butterflies, and her hair was swept up, revealing the elegant column of her neck. I dropped my eyes, embarrassed that I had been staring. Daiyu twisted the single jade bracelet on her wrist—a nervous gesture. Part of me wished she’d shut the door in my face, but that wouldn’t help us gain access to the suite.

  I had used her from the start, and here I was doing it again. If we were working toward the same ends, why did I have to keep deceiving her? Why did we have to keep lying to each other?

  “Is there a bar or restaurant in the hotel?” I trailed off, expecting her to politely decline.

  “I can’t,” she said in a soft voice. “I begged off from the gala and told my father I had a terrible migraine. If one of his guys spotted me out talking with you instead . . .”

  “I see.” I half turned, eager to disappear.

  She reached out a hand. “Wait. We could talk inside?” Daiyu opened the door all the way.

  My heart lurched. Daiyu looked stunning and so vulnerable. She was choosing to trust me. It made me feel like crap. “I”—I cleared my throat—“I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

  She shook her head. “It’s all right. My father and I are sharing this suite, but he’ll be gone till well past midnight. There are too many important people at the gala for him to woo.”

  Daiyu stepped back, as if giving me berth to enter, and the floral perfume with a tinge of citrus she wore on special occasions drifted to me. Without saying a word, I went inside, and she shut the door behind us. I could imagine Lingyi watching the entire exchange on camera, relaying to Iris and Arun what was going on. I felt like a hero confronted with an unexpected roadblock who needed to be cunning and debonair to carry the scene, only I was clueless and bumbling instead.

  Now what?

  Iris could access the suite with the card key Lingyi had given us, and she had her motion detector to know if the room was clear. The presidential suite had two bedrooms, and I needed to get Daiyu into her room to give Iris an opportunity to sneak in. I took in the vaulted ceilings and the gold drapes, which were pulled open, giving a wide view of the river and the buildings lit in flashing lights across from the Bund. A giant crystal chandelier hung over the sitting room, casting a soft glow. A grand piano was set in the corner, and it opened into a more intimate study. This presidential suite was bigger than most houses.

  Daiyu swept a hand toward one of the deep velvet chairs, indicating we could sit, and I shook my head. “Could we go to your bedroom instead?” I winced inwardly.

  Smooth, Zhou.

  I saw the color instantly rise to her cheeks.

  “I don’t mean—I meant”—I took a deep breath—“I don’t feel comfortable in the sitting room. I know you said your father’s occupied at the gala, but what if he needed something and walked in on us?”

  “I didn’t assume . . . ,” she said. “It’s just—” Daiyu pressed her lips together, looking as uncomfortable as I felt. “My bedroom is this way.”

  I nodded. My hands were still stuffed into my trouser pockets, bunched into fists. It was painful to feel so awkward with her—like strangers—after months of being so in sync.

  Daiyu led the way, and it was impossible for me not to admire how her hips moved under the silk sheath of the qipao.

  Get a grip.

  I followed her down a hallway with thick carpeting, and she stopped at one of the wide doors and opened it. “You’re right,” she said, and waved to indicate that I should enter first. “There’s no telling with my father. We have never shared a suite before, but he insisted this time. Good bonding time.” The sarcastic note in her voice didn’t escape me.

  I entered the luxurious bedroom, decorated in ivory and beige. The king-size bed was meticulously made, with gold and silver cushions stacked against the large plush pillows. The housekeeping staff had left a single red rose and a small plate of chocolates on a tray on the bed after the turndown service. I knew they must have come through in the evening, because Daiyu tended to be messy, even more so than me sometimes. This intimate insight, rising unbidden, felt intrusive and out of place.

  Suddenly, I wished I was anywhere but here, with the girl who I loved but had probably lost, both of us weighted beneath too many lies.

  She sat on the edge of her bed. I saw a pair of high heels flung on the ground to the side. Daiyu hated high heels, complaining how much they pinched her toes and made her feel like she was waddling. “So . . .” She smoothed the duvet with her palm. “What did you want to talk about?”

  I stared at the thick carpet, trying to find the right words. “I wanted to thank you,” I finally said after a long pause. “For donating the new equipment to the clinic.”

  “Did it help?”

  I nodded. “We weren’t able to order ventilators to be delivered same day. And yours prevented more serious illness and possible deaths.”

  Her eyes brightened. “I’m so glad. I had to do something.”

  She tried to capture my gaze, but I couldn’t look at her. There was so much more I wanted to say, but the words felt jammed, stuck in my chest and caught in my throat.

  I’m sorry I lied.

  I want to trust you.

  “Will you tell me what you’re doing in Shanghai, then?” she finally asked after an uncomfortable silence.

  “I came for a friend”—I cleared my throat—“a friend who was in trouble.”

  “I didn’t know I’d be coming to Shanghai until my father gave me an ultimatum—support him publicly or he’d actively work to take away my sponsors and donors.”

  I stared at her. After all that Jin had done, I didn’t believe I could still be surprised by his ruthless tactics. But I was.

  “In the end, I had no choice,” she said. “I’m not sure I would have known how to tell you either.”

  “Yet you’re still the heir to Jin Corp.”

  She had been focused on her jade bracelet, turning it on her wrist, but she lifted her head. “I am—”

  “Why?” I cut her off. “Why, Daiyu? I thought what your father does, what Jin Corp represents, is everything you’re against. He threatened you to get what he wanted—and he’s done so much worse.”

  I thought we were on the same team.

  “I know,” she replied. “But what better way to change everything? From within. My father has built an empire with power, money, and reach. I could fight him from the inside, or from the outside as a disgraced and disinherited daughter.” She rose and came to stand in front of me, close enough that I wanted to reach out to her from instinct. From habit. “Which hand would you play?”

  She touched my shoulder—the lightest touch. I fought the urge to lean in, drawn to her despite my uncertainty, despite all the questions running through my mind. I took a step back, and she dropped her hand. “I’ve thought more about what we said to each other outside the clinic—” I said.

  “So have I,” Daiyu interjected. “And it’s not fair. It’s not fair for you to punish me for the wealth I was born into. I know you despise yous, yet you know yourself that major chan
ges require funding. I’m in the perfect position to use my father’s name and money to my advantage, use them to undermine him.”

  I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets and stared at my feet. “I don’t hate yous, Daiyu. I hate the deliberate turning of the eye from those in need, the idea that a life is only as valuable as someone’s net worth.”

  “I’m not like that, Jason.”

  “I know you’re not. But your father has stolen and murdered in the name of profit and personal gain. What does it mean that you remain silent and stand by him?” I shook my head and finally lifted my gaze to meet her eyes. “It sends a message. It taints everything you’re trying to do.”

  Her face paled, despite the heavier makeup she had put on for the gala tonight. “But in the end, he’s still my father, Jason.”

  I thought about my own father, whom I’d lost when I was five. My memories of him were amorphous: a deep voice, his rumbling words a soothing backdrop when I played with my blocks on the living room floor, and his large, calloused hands that would envelop my own. I didn’t remember much, but I remembered my love for him, and how much he loved me back. This was something Daiyu had never had and would never have with her father.

  “I know, and he’ll always be someone I’m fighting against,” I said. “If you had to stand against him, could you?”

  She drew a step closer, almost in challenge, and raised her chin. “Yes,” she finally replied after a long pause of consideration. I knew it wasn’t in fear, or to cover a lie. She wanted to give me the honest truth.

  “Even if you could lose everything?”

  Daiyu gave a humorless laugh. “I will never be poor, Jason. I have a trust fund set up that even my father can’t touch. And my mother is a successful designer in Hong Kong in her own right. I’ll always be a you.”

  “You know what I mean,” I replied. “Because you do have a choice when it comes to your father.”

  A buzzer rang and we jumped apart from each other. I was suddenly aware of my heart thumping hard against my chest.

  “It’s Da Ge,” Daiyu said, glancing at the monitor set by her bedroom door. It showed an image of Jin’s right-hand man, who did all his dirty work, standing outside the suite.

  Shit.

  “My dad must have sent him to check in on me.” Daiyu was already ushering me out of the room. “You have to hide. Go into my father’s bedroom. He won’t go in there. Everyone knows it’s off-limits.” We rushed through the main sitting room and down another hallway. She opened an ornate door at the end and pushed me inside. “Wait here.”

  I almost laughed at how ludicrous the situation was. This wasn’t the first time I’d had to hide from Da Ge. But the last time, I thought with a pang, it was Vic who had hidden me at the Rockaroke. Daiyu had left the door ajar, and I pressed my ear against the small crack. I could hear her speaking to Da Ge, saying she was feeling better after resting. She’d grab her shoes and return to the gala. I strained my hearing, praying the thug didn’t find an excuse to wander down this hallway. Instead, a while later, I heard Daiyu murmuring something and the heavy front door closing shut. Then silence. The bedroom was dark, and I searched for an old-fashioned light switch, not wanting to use voice command. As I fumbled around, someone whispered from the cavernous room, “Zhou.”

  I leaped out of my own skin, suppressing a shout of surprise.

  A Palm screen flickered on, and I saw Iris’s features barely illuminated.

  “You’re in,” I said, feeling relieved. “Have you found the prototype?”

  She nodded and stood from where she had been crouching behind the huge bed, and disappeared down a hallway. I followed, and the lights turned on from Iris’s motion, showing an expansive walk-in closet large enough to have a seating area. Shirts, jackets, and trousers hung from hangers in a neat row. At least a dozen pairs of leather shoes were lined up perfectly on a shelf. Iris handed me my earpiece, and I tucked it back in.

  “Boss,” I said.

  “You’re back,” Lingyi replied. “Great work, Zhou.”

  I felt my cheeks burn. I wouldn’t have called it that.

  “Lingyi was able to help me pinpoint where the prototype is being kept.” Iris pointed at a large black safe tucked inside a built-in cabinet. It took up the entire space, measuring probably three feet across and six feet high.

  “It’s Jin’s personal safe. It’s top-of-the-line and basically bombproof,” Iris said. “Unfortunately, it utilizes voice recognition for the twelve-digit security code.”

  “So even if we were able to crack the code, we’d have to speak the numbers in Jin’s voice to open the safe,” Lingyi said. She sounded subdued. “It’s basically impossible.”

  I cussed under my breath.

  “You should all clear out while you can,” Lingyi said. “We tried, but I don’t want to risk you getting caught by Jin.”

  And getting killed.

  She didn’t need to say it. But it felt like giving up.

  Iris and I took the side streets behind the Bund and headed back to our hotel on the opposite end of the Peninsula. We passed dark storefronts and the occasional hole-in-the-wall eatery that was still open, but didn’t speak one word to each other. I knew Iris had thought this venture was foolish and dangerous, but once invested, she hated to lose.

  It was past eleven p.m. by the time we made it back to Les Suites. I grabbed some fruit and cookies before following Iris up. Arun was sprawled in the armchair, his tuxedo jacket draped over its back behind him. Lingyi sat on the sofa with her feet tucked underneath a bright yellow skirt. They looked as defeated as we felt.

  “Hey,” Arun said.

  Iris went to sit down beside Lingyi, and Lingyi caressed her cheek, giving Iris a light kiss. “It’s a small setback,” Lingyi murmured.

  Iris’s mouth tilted up at the corner, despite her dark mood. “You never give up, do you?” She gave Lingyi a tender look. “I love you for it. But even you can’t work miracles.”

  Lingyi’s gaze flicked toward me. I was still standing, too weary to decide if I wanted to join my friends or just crash and let sleep claim me so I didn’t have to think. “Can I speak with you, Zhou?”

  Surprised, I nodded. “Nothing happened between me and Daiyu, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  Iris rolled her eyes.

  “I’m headed for bed,” Arun said. Which meant I’d get the sofa.

  “I’ll take the first shift,” said Iris.

  Lingyi squeezed Iris’s fingers, then got off the sofa and went to the bedroom she and Iris had claimed for themselves.

  “I’ll come and relieve you in a few hours,” Arun spoke over his shoulder.

  Lingyi waited for me to enter the bedroom, then closed the door behind us. She sat down on the large, rumpled bed and pulled her knees up to her chin. I fell into the green armchair near the bed. The room looked lived in, but not messy. I saw a book on the bedside table: Notes of a Crocodile.

  “Qiu Miaojin?” I asked.

  “I’m enjoying it,” Lingyi replied. “Have you read it?”

  I picked up the book. “I have. I liked it. But it wasn’t always lighthearted reading.”

  “No.” Lingyi fell silent for a moment, then said, “I can’t imagine feeling shame for loving Iris. Or self-loathing. Qiu’s storytelling hits me here.” She jabbed three fingers against her chest. “It twists me up inside. Iris and I are so lucky to live in a time like now.”

  I smiled, even though I was so tired, my cheeks ached. “Honestly, I can’t imagine you with anyone else—”

  “Really?” she interjected. “What about Victor?”

  I clamped my mouth shut. Lingyi and Vic had dated for several months, and as much as he tried to hide it, I knew he had fallen hard for her. “Lingyi . . .” I smoothed my hand over the paperback cover of the book. “What do you want me to say?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. There’s nothing you can say.”

  “Victor had feelings for you,” I replied in a low voi
ce. “But he also wanted you to be happy. Anyone who knows you and Iris can tell how happy you are together. It’s so obvious.”

  Lingyi nodded and rocked on her heels, gazing out the bedroom window. The lights had long gone dark outside along the Bund. “I only wish I had worked up the nerve to tell him how much he meant to me. If not as a boyfriend, then as a friend.” Her arms tightened around her knees, as if this could bring some comfort.

  “He knew, Lingyi.”

  “Did he?” she asked.

  “He did.” I sensed the sadness enveloping her, like a living thing. “I’m sorry,” I managed to say, feeling as if my throat was snapping shut. “It was my fault. . . .”

  It should have been me.

  “What?”

  “Vic had said from the start how dangerous our mission was, but I kept pushing for it.” My heart hurt to speak these thoughts aloud, but if I were to admit my guilt to anyone, it’d be to Lingyi. “I insisted we try, and when I was kidnapped”—I looked away, because I could no longer hold my friend’s gaze—“Victor died because of me.”

  “Oh, Zhou.” Her face had flushed with emotion. “I blame myself.”

  “No.” I was stunned, not knowing what else to say. “How?”

  “I’m the boss, Zhou,” she replied. “I’ve been the leader of the group from the start. I knew that targeting Jin Corp was a risk, but I never imagined”—she faltered—“if I had known Vic would die . . .”

  I rose and went to her, sitting on the bed, and she leaned against me.

  Lingyi was silent for a long time. I stared at her hands, clasped in her lap. A tear fell into her palm, and only then did I realize her face was wet from crying. “Lingyi.”

  Her throat worked, and I could see she was trying to gather herself so she could speak. “He came to me, Zhou,” she finally said. “After you and Iris had broken in and gotten access to Jin Corp’s backup system. He came. To talk.” The words came in spurts. I reached for a tissue from the box on the bedside table and she took it gratefully, wiping her face and blowing her nose. “It was getting real. We were getting close.” Her breath hitched. “Vic wanted to warn me again what a bad idea it was. Someone could die, he kept saying. Do you understand?”