Ruse

by Cindy Pon

  Surging into the polluted sky, Daiyu glimpsed the iconic Jing’an temple from above, composed of several large buildings, their roofs tiled in gold, which opened into a large courtyard. The temple appeared ornate yet serene, isolated from the steel skyscrapers that towered around it. The juxtaposition was striking. Shanghai was an ever-evolving city, always building higher, utilizing better and faster tech, and yet its history asserted itself with this temple, with the centuries-old buildings along the Bund. She wanted to visit the temple—it filled her with peace just gazing upon it. Then the airlimo veered toward Tianzifang in the French Concession, and although Daiyu craned her neck, she lost sight of the landmark.

  She looked for signs of being followed. Daiyu was fairly certain her father was too preoccupied to send someone to spy on her supposed shopping trip, but it never hurt to be cautious. Thankfully, no flying vehicles tailed them.

  The airlimo glided to a stop by one of the passageways leading into Tianzifang, and Daiyu paid the driver in cash before stepping out into the humid day. At almost noon, Tianzifang was crowded with shoppers and tourists. Daiyu had visited only once before but had fallen in love with its charm; the warren of endless boutiques and tucked-away corners felt secretive, an exploration as much as shopping. If Plaza 66 oozed wealth, Tianzifang gave the vibe of creative energy and artistic ingenuity. Many of the boutiques were trendy and catered to tourists, but there were some designers and artists creating beautiful work with a fresh perspective Daiyu truly appreciated. It was how she had met Li Aining, a ceramics artist who owned a small, narrow shop at stall 129.

  Aining’s dragon teapot had an opalescent glazing Daiyu had never seen before, catching blue and green hues when she held it up to the light. She had carved delicate flowers on the fierce dragon head, its mouth open in a wide grimace to allow the tea to be poured. These blossoms she glazed in gold, so they stood out against the dragon’s blue-green scales, appearing almost three-dimensional. Daiyu had purchased the teapot along with the four matching teacups and had bought a few other pieces as souvenirs. Since that first meeting, Aining had been Daiyu’s go-to when she wanted to buy a special gift for a friend. In fact, she had been thinking of commissioning a piece for Jason’s birthday next May. Daiyu had been excited by that prospect, but now the idea only filled her with uncertainty.

  Who knew where she and Jason would be more than half a year from now?

  Aining greeted her with a warm hug; her smile lit up her round face. She wore a loose black blouse with a silver feather print and billowy turquoise trousers. “It’s been too long,” her friend exclaimed.

  “Yes, it has!”

  Aining gestured to the curtain behind them that partitioned the small store from her private storage area. “I’ve cleared out some space for you and your friend for”—she leaned in and dropped her voice, whispering dramatically—“your rendezvous.”

  Daiyu grinned, despite her nervousness at meeting Jason like this. Aining always had a dramatic flair, and it came across in her craft as well. “It’s nothing like that—”

  “I thought this was to see your secret boyfriend!” Aining exclaimed, her voice no longer pitched low.

  Daiyu winced, and Aining’s dark eyes widened. “I see. Young men can be such trouble. I’ll say no more.” Daiyu squeezed her friend’s fingers, before glancing at the ceramic clock against the wall shaped like a giant green tortoise with silver rosebuds on its shell. Almost noon.

  She had tried not to think too much about why Jason wanted to meet. He knew that her father was keeping tabs on Daiyu, and to ask her to risk getting caught to discuss their love problems seemed ridiculous. Still, she no longer knew where they stood. Their relationship felt like it had gone askew—precarious and on unsteady ground ever since they had uncovered each other’s lies. Jason probably felt he had good reason for hiding his trip to Shanghai from her, while Daiyu had never felt she needed to bring up being the heir to Jin Corp again. She’d had no idea Jason had assumed it was something she had rejected outright after the bombing.

  She stood at the edge of the doorway, leaning out just enough so she could catch sight of the people moving through the narrow alleyway that led to Aining’s shop. The crowd seemed a mix of teens, college-aged kids, and older tourists, the younger set’s bright-colored hair standing out. But like Daiyu, Jason didn’t bother to dye his hair. Almost everyone wore masks covering their faces, and Daiyu scrutinized the crowd as best as she could.

  Then she spotted him, dressed in a black tee, and immediately felt her fingertips tingle from the surge of adrenaline. It wasn’t his face that had caught her attention. He wore a mask, and his head was lowered, as if he were studying the pavement. It was the set of his shoulders and his gait that had sent a shock of familiarity through her. Jason walked in a manner that forced people to scatter out of his way. She watched the strange phenomenon unfold in front of her now: two beefy European guys hauled a bunch of shopping bags between them, chatting amiably, but sidestepped and twisted their bodies as Jason approached, then walked past them. Another tall Chinese woman wearing large gold sunglasses visibly leaned away when Jason passed, but leaned forward again, tilting her chin to admire his backside as he strode away.

  Daiyu couldn’t blame her. She’d done the same countless times before.

  He had one hand stuffed into his jeans pocket, probably gripping his butterfly knife. Then he lifted his face, searching for the number at a shop just a few stalls away, and she shifted out of view before heading toward the back.

  Aining sat behind her small counter and was hand-painting something with a thin brush, but raised her head when Daiyu rushed past to hide behind the partition. Her friend’s face positively glowed with curiosity.

  Not a minute later, it seemed, Jason entered the store.

  “Hey,” he said in a brusque voice.

  There was a pause, and the moment seemed laden with uncertainty. Daiyu could sense the caution emanating from Jason, only a few feet away. She couldn’t bring herself to peek past the thick curtain.

  “In there,” Aining said, whispering. She must have pointed, or jerked her chin in Daiyu’s direction.

  The curtain slid aside and Jason was in the storage area with her. They stood toe to toe, because she didn’t think to move to make space. Daiyu could smell the soap he had used—something unfamiliar. Flustered, she took a big step back and stumbled over a box. Jason caught her arm, steadying her; then she pulled away at the same time he let go.

  “I’m all right,” she said.

  He tugged down his face mask and swept a lock of hair out of his eyes. “Thanks for meeting me.”

  Jason took in the space with one sweeping glance.

  Daiyu hadn’t looked around before. They were surrounded by packing boxes and shelves filled with Aining’s art pieces. The cramped closet was lit by a large ceramic firefly with a yellow bulb at the end of its body dangling overhead. A small door she’d have to duck through if she were to use it was set in the back wall. The air was stuffy and hot.

  “Yes,” she said, losing her train of thought. “Of course.”

  “We’re safe here?” he murmured. “She’s a friend?” He slanted his heard toward the front of the store.

  “We can trust her.”

  “Daiyu . . .” He trailed off.

  She had the distinct feeling that if she interrupted, he’d find it that much harder to say what he needed to say. His nervousness fueled her own anxiety.

  “I need your help,” Jason finally said after a long pause. “It’s not fair for me to ask, but you’re the only one who can do this.”

  Daiyu stared at him, stunned. “This is about that air filter my father took—”

  “You’ve seen it?”

  “Once,” she replied. “He keeps it in a safe in his suite.” And this confirmed what she had suspected since Jason showed up at their door the previous night. “You came over to try and steal the filter back—it’s why you were dressed like the hotel staff.”

 
His eyebrows rose and he finally met her eyes. “Yes.”

  “I was in the way,” she continued. “You didn’t really come to talk.” She tried to hide her disappointment, but there was no ignoring the way her entire chest seemed to seize, then twist.

  He neither confirmed nor denied what she said. “We need your help to take it back.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Why’s it so important? The clinic is safe now with the new equipment. . . .”

  “He stole it from someone,” Jason said in a quiet voice. “Your father murdered her for it. He’ll claim it as his own and sell it for millions. But it doesn’t belong to him.”

  Daiyu was suddenly dizzy. The heat felt oppressive, but she hadn’t expected Jason to tell her about another one of her father’s murders. Someone Jason knew? No wonder he hated her father so much. He caught her hand, and she stared down at their entwined fingers.

  “I’m sorry to be so blunt,” he said. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  He hadn’t grabbed her hand as he had always done before—because he liked to touch her as much as she did him—but because she had swayed on her feet. Jason looked down at her, concerned.

  She shook her head. “It’s not your fault.” Her throat had gone dry. “Please go on.”

  He let go of her hand.

  The curtain behind them stirred, and they both froze. A female voice asked a question in the outer room, and Aining responded. The stool Aining was sitting on scraped against the stone floor, as if her friend had risen from it, and an animated conversation began between Aining and the customer over one of her pieces.

  They spoke for some time, probably five minutes, but it felt like an eternity. It seemed she and Jason barely breathed. She became hyperaware of how close they stood to each other, and she wanted more than anything to reach out, to show that she still cared for him. But it felt foolish and out of place. Instead, she watched Jason’s jaw tighten with tension. His eyes were downcast.

  Finally, things quieted on the other side. The customer had left.

  Jason drew a slow breath and reached into his pocket, pulling out a slender device. “It’s a voice-activated recorder.”

  “For my father’s safe.”

  He nodded. “Once you capture the recording of your father speaking the combination, we can open the safe.”

  She took it from him, and their fingers brushed. He clenched his hand into a fist after she took the device.

  “Will you do this?” he asked.

  “Your friends . . . they trust me?”

  “I trust you,” he said. “I vouched for you.”

  “How do I know you’re not just using me?”

  This brought a flush of color to his face. He stared down at his hands, flexing his fingers. She knew he wished he were flipping one of his knives instead. “I want to believe”—he swallowed, the words seeming to catch—“I want to believe that we’re on the same side. And that we can depend on each other?” One corner of his mouth slanted upward.

  That ghost of a smile made her miss him more than she thought was possible. They stood a hand’s width apart, but it felt like a huge chasm. Yet he trusted her, was risking his friendships over it. This gave her hope.

  She tucked the small device into her wallet. “I’ll help.”

  “Daiyu,” he said, “if your father catches you, he’ll never forgive you. You risk losing everything.”

  She closed her eyes and drew a slow breath, then opened them again to find Jason studying her, unable to disguise his hope. It crushed her, that this wasn’t a given, that her willingness to help him was no guarantee. “You asked if I could stand against my father, that I had the ability to choose.” Daiyu lifted her chin. “I’m choosing now.”

  Jason grinned, his features relaxing from relief, and took a step forward. He raised a hand, as if to caress her hair or her cheek—the way he used to. Her heart lurched; for a second, she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead he stopped short, then pulled out a tattered notebook—something nobody she knew even used anymore—and said, “Let’s go over the plan, then.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ZHOU

  “It can’t be you who takes the prototype,” Lingyi whispered heatedly. “Jin knows what you look like—he knows you’re the punk who stole that huge ransom from him.”

  I flipped the butterfly knife in my hand. “That’s good, though. Jin probably thought I died in the explosion. He’ll hate that I somehow survived and have stolen something from him again.” I had returned to the Les Suites from my meeting with Daiyu and was relieved to find Lingyi alone so we could talk. We were huddled again in her hotel bedroom. Iris was currently canvassing the hotel grounds for us, and Arun had left in the morning to visit the clinic again.

  “It’s too risky,” Lingyi said. “He’ll kill you on sight if you get caught.”

  “I won’t get caught.” I grinned. “Besides, who else can do it? Iris?”

  Lingyi shook her head. “Iris would never agree to working with Daiyu.”

  “I vouched for Daiyu, and I’ll take the risk.” I couldn’t really blame Iris for not trusting Jin’s daughter and the proclaimed heir to Jin Corp. If I didn’t know Daiyu so well, I wouldn’t trust her either.

  She’s played you before, Zhou, that small demon me whispered, cavorting on my shoulder. Are you certain she’s not playing you again?

  I ignored him.

  “For all you know, Jin already knows you’re alive and that you’ve been dating his daughter.”

  I shrugged and tossed my knife into the air before catching it and spinning it in my hand. “If he does, he’d think I was doing it in direct retaliation against him. He doesn’t know that Daiyu saved me the night of the explosion. Jin always brings the narrative back to himself. It’d only help us—”

  “Help us how?” she interjected.

  “To incense him. He’ll do anything to gain control again, to save face.” I tucked my knife back into my pocket. “It means he’ll readily agree to my terms to meet at Jin Tower. He’ll think he has the upper hand—his security, his grounds. But he’ll be wrong.” I winked at her.

  Lingyi sighed. “I don’t like it.”

  “I know it’s dangerous.” I felt my pulse quicken in anticipation. I loved a good cat-and-mouse game. And there was nothing I enjoyed more than pissing Jin off. Before, it had always felt I had nothing to lose, but this time . . . this time there was Daiyu. In a low voice, I replied, “I’m more worried about Daiyu. She has nowhere to run right now if things go wrong.”

  “But you trust her,” Lingyi said. “And she’d never have agreed if she couldn’t handle this, if she felt she couldn’t somehow fool her father.”

  I thought about how she had played me for so long, with deftness and ease. If anyone could pull this off, it would be Daiyu. Still, if someone was going to take the fall in the end, I always wanted it to be me. “You do your job, and I’ll do mine.”

  Lingyi scrutinized me, before tucking a strand of purple hair behind her ear. She leaned forward and we bumped fists. “Deal.”

  We had been so engrossed in our discussion, neither of us heard anyone come in until the heavy door slammed shut. I jumped to my feet, Daiyu’s knife already palmed into my right hand, when I saw Arun’s face on the monitor.

  “Where is everyone?” he asked from the outer room.

  Lingyi and I exchanged a glance. If we didn’t tell Iris, Arun couldn’t know either. I tucked the knife back and exited the bedroom, running my hands through my hair lazily as I yawned. “Hey, man. How was it at the clinic?”

  Arun cocked his chin at me in greeting. “Things are good. Everything’s stable and there’ve been no more deaths.” He lifted his hands, which were clutching a large box. “And I stopped at that noodle shop again on the way back.”

  I grinned. “You’re my favorite.”

  Arun laughed and set the box on the table.

  “I’ll go relieve Iris,” I said over my shoulder. “She can eat first.”
r />   I was hungry, but Iris had already been on shift for almost three hours. And I also needed time to think. Alone.

  A message appeared from Daiyu that night on my temporary device: I have it. I’ve tested it. It works.

  Daiyu had told me that Jin was actively searching for someone who could work on reverse engineering the prototype; he was keeping the job secret and separate from Jin Corp. For now. Our time was running out. Still, I hadn’t expected her to get the voice recording the same day.

  “I’m headed out,” I told my friends.

  “Where to?” Iris asked, a note of suspicion in her voice.

  Arun was covering for her in surveillance.

  “Zhou’s working on getting the prototype back,” Lingyi said.

  “How?” Iris asked. “It’s impossible.”

  “He’s looking into it,” Lingyi replied.

  “I can help.”

  Lingyi shook her head. “Zhou’s got this for now.”

  Iris opened her mouth to argue, then clamped it shut. They’d been together for almost two years now, but before Lingyi was Iris’s girlfriend, she was the boss. Lingyi had always been the boss. And what she said went.

  “I’m always here for backup,” Iris said after a pause.

  I nodded at her. “The best backup.” I ran my hands over the places where I kept my knives, trusting that Daiyu had left the recording device at the front desk as we’d agreed, and headed out onto the Bund.

  It was after nine p.m., and the temperature had dropped, but there was still a balminess in the air. The thick throngs of pedestrians and tourists had lessened, but many people still walked along the pavement in front of the historical landmarks and beautiful hotels. Even more people strolled along the promenade across the street, admiring the Bund’s buildings lit in golden light, contrasted with the sleek structures across the river, flickering in bright blues, pinks, oranges, and greens. They painted a colorful reflection in the waters as late-night boats cruised along it.