Ruse

by Cindy Pon

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Of course, sir,” he replied. “No face masks inside, please.”

  I murmured something inaudible and removed my mask.

  The bank’s cold air enveloped me immediately. A high-domed ceiling arched overhead, with ironwork sconces set in a neat line all the way through its deep interior. The bank was filled with customers, many of them sitting in single glass booths to my left, making their personal transactions. Open cubicles on the right allowed the bank’s clients to sit with a banker to discuss their problems and needs. I stopped at the circular front desk, where a man dressed in a navy suit greeted me. It was a different clerk than when Lingyi and I had visited earlier. “How can I help you, sir?”

  “I’m here to use my safe-deposit box.”

  “Of course, sir. If I could just get your retina scan to verify access.”

  I stood still as the scanner adjusted to my height and took the data. The bank clerk glanced at the screen on his desk and nodded. “Feel free to take the elevator downstairs toward the back of the building, Mr. Zhou.”

  A soft hum filled the bank space, reverberating from its high arched ceilings. I tugged my tie loose. I despised wearing anything around my neck, and after this morning, the tie felt especially constricting. I took the wood-paneled elevator down one level to the basement floor, and the doors opened to another reception desk with a woman standing behind it. “Good afternoon, Mr. Zhou.” She smiled at me. “You may access the vault with a retina scan.” She indicated the scanner by the beautiful ironwork door of the vault.

  “Thank you,” I said. After another scan, the two-foot-thick door swung open.

  I had never been in a bank vault before today, and it was as hushed as I imagined a tomb would be. The plush carpeting silenced my footsteps. Large sconces hung from the high ceiling, casting a golden light down on the long, narrow space, but I still felt claustrophobic. I quickly walked to the end of the vault, where the largest deposit boxes were located, and searched for our deposit box number. It required a thumbprint scan and a twelve-digit code to access. The door swung open; it was more like a small safe. I removed the prototype from the bag and carefully placed it inside and shut the door.

  It was done.

  Now we waited for Jin’s next move.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  DAIYU

  Daiyu had been hosting the extravagant banquet with her father for over an hour. One hundred guests were gathered at the Empress’s Chamber, an elegant and expensive restaurant in the Pudong District on the Huangpu River, looking across at the Bund. She made small talk and smiled graciously as dish after dish was set in front of the guests on gilded plates: ginger scallops, braised abalone with mushroom, tender stewed pork, and lobster. Daiyu watched as her father made the rounds, sealing business deals, grasping each investor’s hand with warmth. She avoided looking at the time, for fear her nervousness would betray her.

  Had Jason sneaked into their suite by now to steal the prototype?

  Suddenly, her father glanced at his Vox, his unlined brow crinkling in puzzlement, before his dark eyebrows pulled down in displeasure. It was for a mere second, but she caught it before he turned with a smile, nodding at another guest who had approached to speak with him. But her father ended the conversation abruptly, excusing himself to send several messages via his Palm. He read the responses he received, stone-faced.

  Her heartbeat quickened. Her father was always working hard to expand his networking and relationships in China—his guanxi—where he was still seen as an interloper in the business world. For him to cut off a potential investor or government official meant something was very wrong.

  It had to do with Jason and his theft, she was certain of it.

  Her father wrapped up the banquet brusquely soon after, barely giving his guests time to enjoy their dessert. His security ushered her and her father into his black airlimo, and it lifted into the sky, making a wide arc to glide back toward the Bund and their hotel. It’d be a short ride, but still felt too long in the car’s stifling silence. Her father rarely spoke with her anyway; he was always conversing with some associate or reading the news on his Palm. Today, he only sat in silence, one hand clenched in a fist in his lap—a surprising tell. This silence was thick with tension.

  Finally, he turned his attention to her, and Daiyu felt pinpricks dance across her scalp, seeing her father’s leaden gaze. “You are not to leave the hotel today.”

  “Yes, Father,” she said.

  “In fact, you are not allowed to leave at all until the Jin Tower ceremony next Wednesday, unless I need you at a function.”

  “Yes, Father,” she repeated. Nodding was not enough for him. Her father always demanded verbal affirmation, so he knew he had been heard and understood.

  Their airlimo glided into the Peninsula’s garage, and his security opened their car door, following them into the elevator to go down to their suite. The first thing Daiyu noticed was the stains in the corridor when the doors slid open—dark rust in the beige carpet. A knot rose to her throat and she felt light-headed for a moment. Was that Jason’s blood? Had they caught him, and if so, was he still alive?

  She knew her father had no mercy for anyone who stole from him.

  Daiyu took so long that when she stepped out, the doors nearly closed on her. Her father didn’t seem to notice any of these details, instead speaking quietly with the two men stationed outside their suite’s door. He had been lax with security before, believing they were safe here in the hotel. That obviously had changed.

  Her heart was racing now, and she refrained from sprinting to her room to check for any messages from Jason. She followed her father into the suite and was met with two more security members inside the large sitting room area. She turned to head toward her own bedroom, but her father stopped her with one word.

  “Daughter,” he said. “You’ll meet me in my office in half an hour.”

  Stupidly, she nodded, then replied, “Yes, Father.”

  In a daze, she tripped into her bedroom and tore off her high heels. She grabbed for the Vox sitting on her bedside table, checking for messages. Nothing. Desperate, she reached for her Palm, as if the results would be different somehow. She had left it on the round inlaid table set in front of her bedroom windows. It sat beneath the sprig of orchids in a clear vase. The flowers had been delivered to her late last night. She was surprised to see a woman she recognized from the reception desk standing there holding the small bouquet. “From Mr. Zhou,” Ms. Chen said with a smile. “I was to deliver it directly to you.”

  Daiyu had been alone in the suite. She accepted the delivery, feeling herself blush. It was a reckless gesture, but also terribly romantic—which summed up Jason so perfectly in her mind.

  Now she didn’t know if he had been hurt, or was even alive.

  She considered dictating a message to Jason’s temporary number, hoping he might respond, but stopped herself. What if her father was tracking everything now, not only her movements, but also her communication? Daiyu couldn’t risk it.

  Instead, she peeled off her pale pink organza dress and stepped into the shower. She blasted hot water over herself, hoping this would calm her, make her more alert for the encounter she’d have with her father. Daiyu had no idea what to expect, but she had to have a clear head to deal with him, play him to her own best advantage. She chose a tan skirt and another floral blouse, before clasping her father’s jade pendant around her neck again. Slipping some nude-colored pumps on, she made her way through the large sitting room, past the piano, toward the small library that also served as her father’s office during their stay here.

  Her father’s security personnel stood like silent sentries in the sitting room.

  The door was open, and her father was seated behind the large mahogany desk. He had been studying something on his MacFold, then shut the computer. He nodded at the leather seat across from the desk, and she slid into it, folding her hands in her lap. Despite the cool, regul
ated air circulated in their suite, Daiyu could feel the back of her neck dampen with sweat. She met her father’s eyes and held his gaze. He couldn’t suspect a thing—it’d put the entire plan at risk.

  Her mind flashed to the dark stains on the carpet outside the suite, then to the beautiful light green orchids in her bedroom, and she quickly shoved both images aside.

  Focus.

  Her father leaned back in his desk chair. “Tell me, Daughter, what you know about Jason Zhou.”

  She stared at him, wondering how much he knew, how best to present this. If she were caught in a lie, everything would unravel. Her father hated being lied to as much as he hated being stolen from. “I met him in the new year.” It was the previous year, at her father’s own party, but she was purposely vague. If her father didn’t know their history, he’d assume she meant this past new year, after he had left for China. “He’s . . . he’s American. From California.” She stared down at her hands, then looked back toward her father.

  “And you are friends?” Jin asked, raising one dark brow.

  “We were . . . friendly.” She almost said much more to explain this away. But stopped herself.

  “I see.” Her father pulled a piece of paper from a file and pushed it across the desktop toward her. It was the bad rendering of Jason, the one that had been captured when he had kidnapped her last summer.

  “Do you recognize this?” he asked in a pleasant, conversational tone.

  Daiyu controlled every inch of her being, even her breathing. She willed herself not to flush. Her father read tells as well as she did—she probably learned the skill from him. “I . . .”—she played up her confusion—“No. He seems familiar?”

  He pushed another image in front of her. This must have been captured today by the hotel surveillance. Jason was looking directly at the camera, a hint of a smile on his mouth. Cocky. He grasped a large duffel that obviously held the stolen filter, his bicep flexing from the weight of it. She felt the blood drain from her face. She couldn’t slow her heartbeat, no matter how much she tried. “That’s him.”

  “Yes,” her father said. “It is. When was the last time you saw this Jason Zhou, Daughter?”

  She looked down again and felt her cheeks redden. This was fine. Her father was strict. Even at eighteen, she had been forbidden to date. Daiyu hadn’t been certain if her father knew she had been seeing Jason, but her gut told her he knew now. “I saw him before I came to Shanghai.” She murmured her response—a guilty daughter caught doing something she shouldn’t have.

  “You were seeing someone behind my back,” her father said. “Not only that, someone who had stolen from me.”

  She raised her head then, eyes wide with shock, using her discomfort and fear of discovery in her reactions. “What?”

  “He stole a large sum from me”—her father stared at her, still not revealing that she had been kidnapped last summer by Jason, still keeping her in the dark—“and he stole again from me this morning.” He snatched both images back; a flash of anger. “This boy, this liar and thief, he’s dating you to get to me, Daughter.”

  Daiyu blinked at him, knowing the color had drained from her face. “No.”

  Her father smiled. Maybe it was meant to be gentle. It looked mocking instead. Derisive. “Yes. He wanted access to Jin Corp, and what better way than to charm my daughter, the heir to the company?”

  She jerked her head to the side, toward the large picture window. A tour boat drifted along the river; tourists clung to the rails on the top deck, clustered together.

  “Whatever you thought you had between you was a lie,” her father said. “He used you.” His voice had turned to frost. “The boy’s clever, but you’re smarter than that.” He leaned forward and forced her to meet his steely gaze. “Aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Father.” She acquiesced; she had been purposely submissive the entire time. Her father had always underestimated her, and she used this to her advantage. As long as she remained obedient and pliant, his eyes would always be turned in another direction. Away from her.

  He nodded and settled back into his chair. She braced herself, waiting to hear him say that Jason had been caught, was seriously injured, or had been executed. Instead, she watched as her father stroked his chin, considering something. Then he took another piece of paper from the file and pushed it toward her. There was a single phone number typed onto the page. “Message him.”

  For a second, she didn’t know who he meant by “him.” Then she understood. Jason was still alive, then. He had succeeded. “What do you want me to say?” Jason would know this was coming from her device. She prayed he wouldn’t give anything away.

  “Give me back what you stole.”

  Daiyu typed the message, not trusting the strength of her own voice.

  They waited a full minute. Then another. She watched the time change at the top of her Palm. A reply finally appeared: what i took isn’t yours.

  She read the message out loud, and her father barked a laugh, slamming his fist against the desk at the same time. Daiyu flinched despite herself.

  “The fucking nerve,” her father said. He drummed his fingertips against the desk. “What do you want?” He nodded once at her, and she typed in the message.

  meet me at jin tower. 6 p.m. before the opening ceremony.

  Jin Tower’s opening ceremony celebration was set for seven p.m.

  “Why?” her father asked.

  to settle a score.

  Her father laughed incredulously at that. “He acts as if he’s the one who’s been wronged. As if he’s been stolen from.”

  Daiyu knew her father had stolen the filter from the clinic in the first place. But in his mind, he was taking. Everything was his right to take. Only meis, young punks like Jason, were capable of stealing.

  He tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling, considering. Jason had made no mention of a trade for the prototype, but she was certain that her father thought he could corner him, beat him into submission if necessary. Jason would be on his turf; her father would feel he’d have the upper hand. What was there to lose?

  He leaned forward and said conspiratorially to her, “Do you know what he’s really after?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Money, just like last time.” He straightened, seeming to have reached a decision. “The back entrance will be open. Take the elevator to the top floor.”

  She relayed the message.

  done.

  Her father rose from the desk, dusting off his suit sleeves and adjusting his tie. “You’re finished.”

  He didn’t just mean this exchange with Jason.

  “Yes, Father,” she said.

  “And you’ll come to meet him with me,” he added. “You can see firsthand what desperate people are capable of, trying to grasp what they can never have, trying to take what will never belong to them.”

  Daiyu stared down at her hands.

  “You made a grave error,” he said, as he placed several files into his briefcase. “You won’t do it again.”

  He grabbed the briefcase, obviously headed to another meeting. But he paused in front of her, waiting for a response.

  “No, Father.” He suspected nothing, believing she was still under his thumb, still within the fold. Daiyu had always thought that she could only ever make a difference constricted by her father’s rules—she had never known anything else her entire life. But Jason had shown her otherwise, shown how his friends were fighting—risking their very lives—to do right. Daiyu thought she could only play on the game board her father had set down, and now she realized she could flip it.

  It was a different game now, with a different set of rules.

  Her father nodded in satisfaction, before leaving her alone in the library.

  ZHOU

  I knew I probably wouldn’t have to wait long before Jin reached out. But my heart jumped into my throat when the message appeared from Daiyu’s own Palm. Had she been found out somehow? Was using his daughter’s phone to contact
me a not-so-subtle threat?

  Lingyi was by my side when it pinged with an incoming message. She rested a hand on my arm, sensing my agitation. My dummy device was using a Wi-Fi connection Lingyi had set up that was impossible to trace.

  “Don’t give it away,” Lingyi said. “Jin’s just playing his mind games.”

  “I’ve put her in danger by dragging her into this,” I replied. After all that had happened today, this was the first time I felt sick to my stomach. “I should never have asked this of her.”

  Lingyi squeezed my arm. “Look at me.”

  But my dark thoughts had already spiraled away from me. Was Jin capable of killing his own daughter? Yes. I was certain of it, after he weighed the costs versus the benefits. My leg jittered and I stared at the single sentence on my dummy Palm: Give me back what you stole.

  “Shit,” I muttered. “Shit.”

  “Zhou,” Lingyi said. “We have to respond.”

  what i took isn’t yours. I typed in the reply as she looked over my shoulder.

  The entire exchange was short. After, I sank into the chair beside Lingyi’s bed, wiping my palms against my jeans. My hands were shaking.

  “Wow.” Lingyi touched my shoulder. “You’re in deep.”

  I knew she wasn’t referring to all this business with Jin. She was right.

  But we had a meeting set up with Jin before the big opening ceremony, just like we wanted.

  “All the details about the ceremony that Daiyu gave you were helpful,” Lingyi said. “I still need to scope out the site before the event, buy and set up the necessary equipment.”

  “We need Iris and Arun’s help,” I replied. “We have to loop them in.”

  Lingyi nodded. “Iris won’t like it.”