by Cindy Pon
It was a beautiful night, and I wished I could enjoy it. Instead, my mind kept returning to my meeting with Daiyu earlier today.
How do I know you’re not just using me? she had asked.
Aren’t you just using her, though, Zhou? my mini-demon rasped.
“I love her,” I said into the night. “We love each other.”
Are you so certain of that? The demon chortled, adjusted his perfect bow tie, and flicked imaginary dust from his tuxedo sleeve. Can a girl like her truly love a boy like you? You’re overreaching.
I clenched my teeth and shoved my hands deep into my pockets. My fingers felt something, and I pulled it out. A small note folded into a triangle. Daiyu’s quick note to me before I’d left for Shanghai. Before either of us knew we’d both end up in the same city, working together to steal something back from her father. The demon on my shoulder was right: I didn’t know how things would go between us. But I knew for certain what I wanted; I wanted her. I wanted us to stay together. Maybe she was my weakness, and when it came to Daiyu, as Iris implied, I was too easily fooled. But no matter what was thrown at me, or came between us, I never stopped loving Daiyu—or trusting her.
I could only hope that after all that had happened, she felt the same way.
A woman with a yellow head scarf wrapped around her hair meandered through the pedestrians, selling fresh flowers. She held small bouquets and individual flowers in her arms, calling out to the people still wandering the streets, many of them couples. A young Chinese man with indigo hair stopped to select a few long-stemmed roses for his boyfriend. The recipient, a Filipino man, beamed in delight. Their animated conversation carried to me even as they walked away, hand in hand.
One of the sprigs in her bunch caught my eye: a long stem of pale green orchid blooms, the color of crisp jade. It stood out among the red and pink roses, and the large white lilies. Jade was part of Daiyu’s name, and on a whim, I approached the woman. “How much for the orchids?” I asked.
“For a handsome young man like you”—she grinned, showing a few missing teeth—“only thirty yuan.”
I had a feeling she was overcharging me, but I wasn’t bothered and fished out two twenty-yuan notes from my wallet. “Keep the change.”
Her ingratiating grin turned into a true smile. “Sir. Thank you, sir! Perhaps you’d like a red rose, too?”
I shook my head. “Just the orchids, please.”
“Yes, of course.” Tucking her bouquets into a wicker basket at her feet, she then carefully wrapped my delicate sprig of orchids in cellophane, adding some greenery, before tying it with a purple ribbon. She handed the flowers to me and said, “May things go as you wish this evening.”
I nodded, forgetting to thank her as I headed to the Peninsula Hotel. It seemed an odd thing for her to say, or was I feeling paranoid? And how would I even get the flowers to Daiyu? I couldn’t walk up to her suite—and what, pass the bouquet on to Jin to give to his daughter? Feeling foolish, I strode into the Peninsula’s foyer. It was surprisingly busy for this time of the evening, but maybe the yous always had something to do, somewhere to go. They bustled in their designer clothes, jewels sparkling on their fingers, earlobes, and wrists.
The automatons still stood in the boutique window, and to my horror, they were moving in unison. The store display had been transformed into a sandy beach, and the automatons wore bathing suits and bikinis with silk wraps, their feet marking grooves into the shallow sand. Their mouths pursed in pretend conversation, and I walked quickly past them to the reception desk.
“How can I help you?” a woman with her black hair pulled into a bun asked from behind the marble counter.
She arched an eyebrow as I approached. Although the air was regulated in the expensive hotel, I hadn’t bothered to pull down my face mask. Dressed in black jeans and a faded leather jacket, I definitely did not look like the average customer staying there. “Ms. Jin left a small package for me here,” I said.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “I see,” she replied. “Under what name, may I ask?”
“Zhou,” I said. “Jason Zhou.”
“Of course, Mr. Zhou.” She turned from me, and I could smell the faint scent of her floral perfume. “I’ll have a look.”
A man at the counter continued to help people as she went to the back to search for my package. I was more nervous than I thought I’d be. What if the recording device had been intercepted by Jin? It was our last and only chance to take the prototype back.
She returned after a while with a small envelope in her hand. “Here you go, Mr. Zhou.”
I couldn’t wait. I opened the envelope right there at the counter. Inside was the slim recording device I had given Daiyu and a note. I pulled it out, and seeing her beautiful handwriting brought a visceral reaction, especially remembering the last very personal note she had given me, still tucked in my pocket.
We’ll be out for an investors’ banquet tomorrow, which starts at 11:30 a.m. It will last at least two hours.
Then the last line, in a messier scrawl, as if written in a hurry.
I trust you, too.
The last sentence brought a flood of warmth to my face, and only then did I feel the other woman’s gaze on me. There were no customers waiting, and she had been studying me with interest. I was sure Daiyu had never left a note to give to a strange boy at the front desk before.
“Is there anything else I could help you with, Mr. Zhou?” she asked in a warm voice. Her curiosity was obvious.
“Yes,” I replied. My friends always said I often acted rashly. They were right. “Could you get these flowers directly to Ms. Jin?” I set the bouquet down on the marble counter. “Only to Ms. Jin.”
“Of course,” she said, understanding me. “Would you like to include a note to pass on?”
“No, no note.”
“I’ll handle this personally,” she assured me, smiling graciously, taking the bouquet and setting it under the counter.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Ms. Chen.” Someone had stepped up beside me without being called, and the familiar baritone in his voice made my scalp crawl. Jin. I turned my head from him slowly, fighting the urge to run—it’d only draw his attention.
Shit.
I felt Jin give me a once-over and was grateful for the mask that still covered half my face. Blood thundered in my ears. I didn’t belong in this rich hotel, and Jin had sharp eyes. His gaze was heavy against my back as I strolled from the counter, forcing my fingers to relax, my shoulders to sway naturally. The weighted moment passed, and I heard Jin say to Ms. Chen, “I need a favor. . . .”
“Of course, Mr. Jin. You could have called down, or relayed your request to Mr. Han—”
“I could have, but I wanted to instruct you in person.” I could hear the warm smile in his words. Jin was charming as hell when he wanted to be. “I know I can trust you to manage things exactly as I like.”
I walked away and glanced back. Ms. Chen had her attention turned to Jin, her hands clasped on the counter in front of her. I left through the front doors, the humid air and pollution hitting me like a wall the moment I stepped outside.
I could only hope that Jin hadn’t paid attention to the flowers I had set on the counter, or notice when they were delivered to the suite to Daiyu. Or what if Ms. Chen gave the flowers to Jin now, to pass on to his daughter? The thought brought a cold sweat to my forehead and the back of my neck.
This one impulsive gesture might ruin everything.
I couldn’t sleep that night, waiting for a message from Daiyu that we’d been discovered, that Jin was onto us. But no message ever came. The next day Lingyi and I were at the Bank of China on the Bund when they opened at nine a.m. to set up a safe-deposit box together. When we returned, Lingyi spent the rest of the morning placating Iris, reassuring her she was working on altering her passport info so we could travel back to Taiwan soon. Which was true.
I knew Iris was growing impatient and feeling trapped. She also
worried Jin would target Lingyi again. I didn’t blame her.
Arun left once more to visit the clinic. He wanted to assess the facility and see what other equipment and needs he might be able to provide before we returned to Taipei. I went out just after eleven a.m. with a large duffel bag tucked into a leather briefcase. Lingyi knew the specific dimensions of Jany’s filter, but Daiyu had already assured me it was something I could carry in the duffel.
Arun had had a suit made for me when he had ordered the hotel staff clothing, and I appreciated his foresight. “You never know when you might need a smart suit, man,” Arun said.
“You sound like Victor,” I replied.
“Victor was right.”
We smiled at each other but didn’t say more. We both missed him.
It might not have been designer or as stylish, but the gray suit was tailored perfectly. I wore a white shirt with a silver-blue tie and managed to get the flop of hair out of my eyes with some styling product. Slipping on a pair of leather shoes, I looked the part with the briefcase.
The heat was unrelenting when I stepped outside Les Suites. And though the sunlight was hazy, it beat down upon us. I took the backstreets this time, avoiding the large crowds along the Bund. Still, there were people everywhere, and despite my mask, I could smell the exhaust and the cigarette smoke every person seemed to blow my way. Coughing, I quickened my pace, feeling the sweat slide down my back.
By the time I reached the Peninsula again, the back of my shirt was damp. I entered the grand hotel, this time dressed like I belonged there, and strode to the elevators. There were two new hotel staff behind the reception desk, and though one lifted his head to glance at me, he didn’t do more than that. I stepped inside the elevator and accessed the presidential suite floor with the card Lingyi had given me.
When I arrived at Jin’s door, I pulled out the motion-sensing goggles from my briefcase and searched for movement in the other room. Seeing nothing, I used my key to enter the suite. The curtains in the luxurious sitting room were drawn aside. Airlimos glided over the river across the floor-to-ceiling windows’ view. The suite was silent. Daiyu and I had agreed that she needed a solid alibi when I showed up to steal the prototype, and this banquet luncheon she had to attend with her father was perfect. Jin would more likely suspect we had gotten our hands on some tech that could crack his safe rather than think his own daughter had betrayed him.
I headed straight to Jin’s room, scanned for movement, then went in and flicked the lights on. Sensors turned on the lighting in the large walk-in-closet when I entered. I pulled down my mask and went directly to the safe. The tiny red light set at eye level seemed to wait for me to speak the combination aloud. I took out the recording device and depressed a hidden button on the underside. Jin’s voice filled the room, crisp and clear. He spoke twelve digits, enunciating carefully. I had tested the recorder the night before, but it was more disconcerting to hear the man’s voice fill the space in his own suite. I looked over my shoulder once, feeling the hairs on my arms stand on end. The recording stopped, and I waited, holding my breath. Three seconds later, the heavy safe door swung open soundlessly.
I pumped my fist into the air twice, refraining from shouting in triumph. The safe was empty except for the prototype placed on the lowest shelf. I eased it out, lifting it to test the weight—probably thirty pounds. It was cumbersome, but nothing I couldn’t carry out of the hotel easily on my own. Working quickly, I removed the large duffel bag and motion detector from the briefcase, then carefully placed the filter and my detector in the duffel. I set the briefcase into Jin’s safe; it was empty, except for one single note containing the number to a dummy device.
I had no doubt Jin would be in contact as soon as he discovered the prototype was missing. Shutting the safe, I hefted the duffel bag and left Jin’s suite, not bothering to turn off the bedroom light. I wanted him to know something was wrong the instant he opened his door. I wanted him to feel alarmed, feel that unease climb down his spine and settle in his stomach, heavy, then turn into dread. The thought filled me with pleasure.
I cracked open the suite’s heavy door to an empty hallway. After I stepped out, the door clicked firmly closed behind me. I lifted my head to where I knew the camera was and grinned. Jin would be going over the surveillance recordings, and this time, Lingyi wouldn’t be deleting the files and replacing them with empty corridors. I knew the sight of my face would enrage him. I took pleasure in that as well.
For a moment, I considered taking the emergency stairs. But it wasn’t even noon yet, so I took a risk and pressed the elevator button on Jin’s floor instead. The down arrow lit up not a minute later, the elevator dinged, and the doors opened soundlessly.
Da Ge, Jin’s main thug, stood inside.
Stunned, we both stared at each other for a heartbeat, before he lunged out of the elevator at me and I swung the heavy duffel toward him at the same time. The filter slammed against his shins, and the man grunted in pain. I dropped the duffel and palmed one of Daiyu’s knives into my hand. He was reaching for his gun at his waistband and I charged, thrusting the knife at him. Da Ge blocked me with one arm.
He shuffled back, still feeling the impact of the metal filter thudding into his shin bones, and I took advantage and continued to advance, giving him no leeway. Infuriated, he swung at me. I blocked with my left arm, feeling the impact in my teeth, then grabbed his wrist and made a swift upward slice along his bicep. He grunted again, an enraged sound.
He winced from the wound, but it was hardly enough to stop him. We circled each other, the large duffel between us. I knew he recognized me as the kid tied up in the basement the night Jin Corp was blown up—the kid Jin had instructed him to kill the next morning. Like Jin, Da Ge had assumed I had died in the explosion.
I grinned at him, only because I knew that’d piss him off.
It did.
Da Ge kicked at me, trying to dislodge my knife, leaving himself exposed again. Instead of dodging or deflecting, I spun into him. With my back to his torso, I stabbed him in his side, then twisted and slammed my blade into his other side. The momentum gave me enough power to plunge the knife in deep.
He stumbled from me, clutching one side with his hand. Blood seeped through it. “Fucking kid,” he growled, and grabbed the gun strapped at his back. Anticipating this, I dodged just as he raised his arm and shot at me. His aim was crap, and his grip slippery from his own blood.
Not giving him a chance to shoot again, I kicked him hard in the shin, then knocked the gun out of his hand. Da Ge collapsed onto one knee, and I fought the urge to haul him up and pin him against the wall, my knife pressed against his throat. In a split-second decision, I hadn’t depressed the button that would have had him thrashing on the ground right now in his final death throes from poison. Instead, I grabbed his gun from the floor and hefted the duffel up, then ran toward the emergency stairway.
Da Ge was too injured to follow me, but not too injured to call for backup. I ran down the stairs as fast as I could; Jin’s suite was on the ninth floor, and that was nothing for me. But carrying a thirty-pound filter down the stairway was a different story. Winded, I didn’t know what to expect when I emerged onto the main floor. Sirens blared outside.
Da Ge wouldn’t have called the police. More likely someone had reported the sound of a gunshot or maybe found the injured thug out in the hallway. Grateful that the emergency stairway opened into a quiet corridor, I ran away from the lobby and increasing noise, as hotel patrons began to converge and speak excitedly, gossiping. I barged through a double swinging door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY and almost slammed into a man pushing a large cart filled with laundry.
He gaped at me, but I was already headed for the hotel’s back exit.
I found it minutes later and pushed the bar, falling out into an alleyway. Nothing glamorous or beautiful here. It looked like all the dank and narrow alleyways I’d ever slinked through. I looked both ways, listening for anyone approaching, then placed the
heavy duffel on the ground, flexing my palm before dropping Da Ge’s gun into a metal garbage bin. I hated guns, and this one was still sticky with the man’s blood.
In the end, I decided to walk the half mile to the Bank of China. I was conspicuous carrying a large duffel, assuming Jin’s men had been informed to search for me. But I’d take to the side streets as much as I could. I put my face mask back on.
I stayed pressed against the shadows of the tall buildings, and the sound of sirens filled my ears. The police response seemed over-the-top, but this was the Peninsula Hotel, and the shooting had happened outside Jin’s suite. The rich and powerful needed to be protected, I thought with a smirk.
Navigating through the backstreets, I still had to fend off a stream of pedestrians out in the early afternoon—wandering tourists and professionals headed for a late lunch. Once, I glimpsed a lean man dressed in black headed toward me, and my fingers grazed over my knife. He sidestepped when our paths crossed, and I used the duffel bag to keep him at arm’s length. The man ambled on, never looking back; but my hand stayed poised over my knife for the rest of the journey.
When I reached the bank, I stopped in a shadowed corner, on the side street, out of view. During business hours, the Bank of China always had a security guard near the building’s main entrance, and I had to make myself presentable. My arms and shoulders were sore from carrying the filter this far, and my dress shirt was soaked through with sweat. I had wanted to take off my jacket, but it helped me pass as an older professional. My palm was still smeared with Da Ge’s dried blood from his gun. I wiped my hand against the back of my damp shirt and managed to get most of it off. I adjusted my tie, then noticed the scuff marks on my jacket. A few drops of Da Ge’s blood had splattered onto my white shirt, too, as if I had suffered a nosebleed. I quickly buttoned my suit jacket to cover the stains.
Dusting off my jacket, I picked up the bag again and turned the corner, walking nonchalantly up the steps. As long as I’d played the rich kid, it still made me feel as uncomfortable as if I were donning a dinosaur suit. A young man wearing a black uniform and cap with a gun strapped very visibly at his side nodded at me. I nodded back, and seeing the large bag I carried, he walked toward the front entrance. My heartbeat picked up, thinking he was going to intercept and question me. Instead he simply pulled the door open.
