Ki takes a glass from the hearth behind her, centers it on the towel, then places a playing card over its mouth.
“The Princess of the North was not afraid of her father, and she decided she would rather be in prison than grow old without her sisters.”
Ki opens the scarf and lays it gently over the glass.
“But as soon as she left the Northern Kingdom, she was arrested by her father’s soldiers and locked at the top of the tallest tower in the kingdom.”
When Ki lifts the scarf, there is an aluminum nickel on the center of the card. The girls take note, but do not react. They are waiting for Ki to continue her story.
“The Eastern Princess also tried to escape,” Ki says as she drapes the scarf back over the glass, “and she, too, was arrested. Soon, all four princesses had been arrested and locked up together at the top of the tallest tower in all the kingdom.”
When she pulls the scarf away, four aluminum nickels are stacked and centered on the card. Ki arranges them in a flat clover pattern, then covers the glass with the silk scarf once more.
“The king decided that he would auction his daughters off in order to become the richest ruler in all the land, but first he had to break their spirits since no man would buy a girl who defied the wish of her father. He left them alone in the tower for over a year, and when he went to check on them one morning to see if they were ready to be sold, he heard them laughing and playing games together. Their happiness made him so angry that he picked up a heavy wooden club that his slaves used to beat dust out of the castle’s carpets, and ran to the top of the tower to beat his daughters to death. But the king was an old man and very fat from all the food he demanded, so when he got to the top, he was sweating and out of breath. He opened the door and found that although each princess was small and weak by herself, together they were very powerful.”
When Ki takes the scarf away, the four nickels are gone, and in their place is a bright gold-plated New Guangdong panda coin. She then covers the glass one final time and sees that the girls are far more interested in the story than the magic.
“Instead of running away, the king foolishly attacked his daughters, but they overpowered him. They tried to push him through the window at the top of the tower, but the opening was too small and the king was too fat, so they worked together to pull off his arms and used his blood to make the stone wet and slippery. They finally got the king through the window, and he screamed as he fell all the way down to the ground and dashed his head against a pile of stones.”
There is a clinking sound from beneath the scarf, and when Ki pulls it away, the silver-strike Yuan is at the bottom of the glass.
“The people were all so happy that the princesses had murdered their father that they threw a great feast, and the four sisters ruled the kingdom with wisdom and compassion for the rest of their lives.”
Ki looks around and sees both astonishment and terror in the girls’ expressions. There are tears in the wide brown eyes of the chocolate-haired girl in the front. The only applause comes from the back of the room—a single slow and deliberate clap… clap… clap… that breaks the collective trance and draws the room’s attention.
Among the house moms stands a seemingly very young man in a handsome khaki suit buttoned tight across his midriff. His yellow curls hang nearly to his shoulders, and he wears thin, gold-rimmed glasses.
“That was just brilliant,” the man says. His smile conveys genuine amusement, but his eyes are narrow and challenging. Ki can see that he has a small, boyish gap between his front teeth. “You are every bit as talented as you are elegant.”
Ki straightens herself only to lean forward again and bow.
The man lifts the tail of his suit coat with his thumbs and slides his hands deep down into his pockets. He cocks his head to the side and is no longer smiling.
“Ki, do you know who I am?”
The girl shakes her head. She sees that the house mom beside him is holding a stack of new clothing with a pair of small white tennis shoes on top.
“You can think of me as the king,” the man says. “And I’m about to become the richest ruler in the land.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Dr. Luiz Abrahan Ribeiro Oliveira had not left international waters in over eleven years. He held no passport, claimed no citizenship under any sovereign nation, and could only be contacted through one or more intermediaries. In order to make his both distinguished and sparsely allocated acquaintance, petitioning clients and patients (whose stories, backgrounds, and identities checked out) were provided with a latitude and a longitude which might correspond to any point along the coasts of any of the world’s seven continents. At the specified date and time, guests were met by security personnel, subjected to extensive but relatively tasteful security screenings, and finally conveyed to the 514-foot Kingmaker by one of three helicopters, one of two mini subs, or one of four ship’s tenders so large and luxurious that each could be considered a pretty credible yacht in its own right.
Alexei and Ki waited in a private terminal at the Aeropuerto Internacional de Ushuaia on Tierra del Fuego, the main island of an archipelago shared by Chile and Argentina at the southernmost tip of South America. Alexei had contemplated several times the wisdom of meeting a man like Oliveira on such lopsided terms. If Oliveira were suddenly motivated to make Alexei disappear, Alexei doubted he would ever even see the ambush coming, much less have an opportunity to react to it. Oliveira’s reputation was that of a businessman, however, which meant that Alexei’s prospects of ever returning to dry land were directly proportional to the amount of money Oliveira believed him to be worth. And, as was the case with all gangsters, inversely proportional to how much of a threat he perceived Alexei to be. Of course Alexei knew that it wouldn’t hurt if Oliveira were to take a liking to him, as well.
Ki worked on her needlepoint—an elaborate Thai elephant adapted from a Chinese embroidery she found in a book—while Alexei drank black tea from a paper cup, paced the floor, and watched the tree line through the windows. There were tiny flashes inside the thick cover of evergreens which he suspected was the glare from distant optics surveilling their location. After a suitable period of observation and probably one final comprehensive risk assessment, Oliveira’s men moved in.
An orange and white Eurocopter Dauphin touched down outside, sending the light dusting of snow and frost swirling. Two men wearing tight blue thermal suits and sidearms pushed open the doors, dropped to the tarmac, and jogged to the outer terminal entrance, heads bowed against the cold chopper wash. They entered at a casual pace, immediately offering reassuring smiles. The first man introduced himself as Gunder, Dr. Oliveira’s head of security. They gave precise but friendly instructions while using a backscatter tablet to take full-body scans. Alexei and Ki were both shown to be unarmed; however Gunder’s partner politely insisted that he safeguard Ki’s needlepoint kit for the duration of their visit.
The Kingmaker was anchored just beyond Argentinean waters, and the Dauphin approached tentatively, then touched down with expert precision on her forward helipad. Alexei and Ki were kept between Gunder and his partner as they were led well below deck and finally presented with a hatch that seemed to divide the outside shell of the yacht from an independently floating inner cavity. Alexei could see the inner and outer bulkheads sliding past one another as the ship rose and fell on the frigid crests of the Southern Ocean. At Gunder’s invitation, Alexei stepped through ahead of the girl, then paused when he sensed that something was not right. He had the sensation of transitioning from the bucking hull of a small boat on rough seas to a sound and sturdy dock.
“It is rather disorientating at first, isn’t it?”
The meticulous voice contained just a hint of Brazilian Portuguese. It came from the other end of the lounge, and Alexei could see the silhouettes of two figures against the semicircular cobalt blue glow of a massive tropical fish tank. A thin middle-aged man reclined against cream-colored cushions which followed the curvatu
re of the wall behind them. His complexion was bronze—part African and part Latino—and his short black hair was combed straight back to emphasize the dramatic peak of his hairline. He wore a thin silk robe, and even from across the lounge, Alexei could see from his gaze that the man was both intelligent and intense. The smoke from his cigar rose in a straight column up into the filtration system above him, and in his other hand was a tumbler with two fingers of what Alexei assumed was very fine, thoroughly aged, single malt scotch.
The other figure was tending to Dr. Oliveira’s bare, oiled feet. The young shirtless boy was bent into a vigorous and sensual massage.
“We stopped moving,” Alexei said.
Gunder and his partner gave each other a mirthful and patronizing look as they accepted Alexei’s and Ki’s parkas. When they withdrew, they sealed the hatch behind them.
“Relatively speaking, that is true.” The man checked the ash on his cigar as he spoke. “The entire ship is built around the most sophisticated stabilization technology ever engineered.”
Alexei was moving toward the man very slowly, trying to sense even the smallest sway beneath his feet. It was clear how proud Oliveira was of the Kingmaker, and in Alexei’s experience, when dealing with a man who so obviously had the upper hand, it never hurt to play on his pride.
“Both my parents were engineers,” Alexei told the doctor, “so I grew up around all kinds of mechanical systems. But I must admit, I have no idea how this works.”
The doctor smiled, presumably delighted by the prospect of explaining one of his toys to someone who might actually appreciate it. “It uses a technology called Predictive Compensation Spherical Awareness, or simply PCSA.” He looked up at the ceiling and used his cigar to draw a circle in the air. “There are hundreds of Doppler sensors positioned along each axis of the ship’s perimeter. Their signals overlap to create a complete sphere of awareness which can be used to model, predict, and ultimately counter almost every possible external force. PCSA technology has enabled me to build what I believe is the most advanced and best equipped maritime surgical operation on the planet.”
Alexei could tell that the man did not need to be flattered so much as he simply needed an opportunity to self-aggrandize—someone to impress who was not on his payroll. However, Alexei could also tell that Oliveira could probably go on indefinitely, prolonging what he hoped would be a relatively succinct meeting until it included cocktails, dinner, and possibly even an invitation to stay overnight. Those who wield great power and wealth eventually find that isolation and profound loneliness are almost always part of the job.
“It is indeed a remarkable accomplishment,” Alexei said by way of a segue.
Oliveira accepted his guest’s praise with a curt nod. “Please, sit.”
Alexei lowered himself onto a cushion he deemed an appropriate distance from Oliveira. Ki found an open section of dark carbon fiber wall and stood inconspicuously against it. Oliveira spoke sharply to the boy at his feet.
“Go get your brother.”
The boy looked to be Vietnamese or Taiwanese. His bare chest was boney and his soft black hair was nearly shoulder length. The boy was quick to stand and leave the room through the door beside Ki. There was no acknowledgment or eye contact between them.
Alexei watched Oliveira draw luxuriously on his cigar. He knew that the man was one of the most wanted criminals on the planet and he wondered if—like the Kingmaker—that was somehow a point of pride for him.
“I’ve been told that you never leave your ship. Is that true?”
Oliveira let the smoke rise from his open mouth for a moment before fully exhaling. “My services are available globally, so it’s beneficial for me to remain mobile. Additionally, my clients and I find the legal aspects of international waters to be, well, convenient.”
Alexei doubted it was international authorities he feared so much as rivals, victims of countless violated agreements, and possibly even well-funded vigilantes.
“Are you at all concerned about piracy?”
“Oh, we run into pirates all the time,” Oliveira said. He tapped a long, solid ash into a crystal dish on the cushion beside him. “They aren’t a problem.”
“Why’s that?”
“She may not look like it, Mr. Drovosek, but the Kingmaker can take on anything up to and including the size of a Guangzhou-class destroyer. Every now and then, we run down a pirate ship or two just to make that clear. Word spreads quickly out here on the waves, and consequently, we are given a very wide berth.”
“I see,” Alexei said. “She’s a marvelous ship. I must admit, I’m envious.”
The boy and his brother returned with the subtle combination of urgency and discretion unique to the servant class. Oliveira motioned toward his guest while sipping his scotch. The younger boy returned to the surgeon’s feet while the older one went to the bar and began preparing a tray.
“And I am envious of you,” Oliveira said. For the first time, he acknowledged the girl standing against the wall.
“Thank you.” Alexei accepted a scotch and a precut cigar from the older boy’s tray. The boy used a plasma lighter to ignite one end of a long Spanish cedar stick which he then lifted with one hand and shielded with the other. Alexei rolled the foot of his cigar above the flame until it was warm, then put it up to his mouth, leaned forward, and alternately drew and rotated until the cigar was evenly lit. “Did you have a chance to review the material I sent?”
Oliveira considered the question. “Mr. Drovosek, have you seen Ki’s genetic profile?”
“Of course.”
The boy returned the tray to the bar and unobtrusively left the room.
“Did you understand what it was you were looking at?”
Alexei started to sip his scotch, but stopped. “I think so. Why?”
“This girl of yours is probably as close to naturally perfect as I believe I have ever seen.”
“That’s good to hear,” Alexei said. He finished half his scotch in a single swallow. “But close is not what I’m after.”
“Mr. Drovosek, in this business, as in all others, one must learn to respect the law of diminishing returns. Do you know what that means?”
“I believe so.”
“Good. Then you know that true professionals understand when they are about to put more money into an investment than they can possibly get out of it.”
Alexei looked confused. “Certainly she’s worth many times more than whatever I would pay for your services.”
“Undeniably, Mr. Drovosek. I’m not saying I charge more for my services than she’s worth. Not by a long shot. What I’m saying is that my services cost more than what I can add to her value.”
Alexei blew a stream of smoke up into the ventilation system. “Is that so?”
“You’re new to this business, so let me explain something to you. Clients claim to want perfection, but they do not. Perfection and beauty are not the same things. What buyers actually want is beauty. What they’re actually looking for are subtle but significant deviations from perfection—something they’ve never seen before, and don’t think they’ll ever see again. Something I like to think of as novelty. A decade ago, it was predicted that this entire industry would be dominated by human cloners, yet here you and I sit. Why do you think that is?”
“Because clones are too perfect.”
“Exactly. Clones don’t offer the variation and variety that men seek, whether they know it or not. Only nature can provide that variation. Technology can be used to predict the future, to summon enormously destructive forces, and to make a stormy sea feel as calm and steady as bedrock, but only nature can create true and profound beauty.”
“That’s not an opinion I would expect to hear from a plastic surgeon.”
“There aren’t very many plastic surgeons who can afford to admit the truth about beauty. The industry of plastic surgery is about creating the illusion of the unobtainable. Plastic surgery can indeed make us perfect, and then when we real
ize we’re still not beautiful, we are told it is because we are not perfect enough.”
“I’m confused,” Alexei said. “What is it that you do, exactly?”
“Let me start by explaining what I do not do. I do not participate in traditional plastic surgery. I do not humiliate and demean my clients until they feel inadequate enough to let me cut them up into little pieces and put them back together in grotesquely inhuman and wholly unobtainable configurations.” The surgeon took a moment to consider the tip of his cigar before continuing. “True plastic surgeons, in their purest form, are more like diamond cutters. We don’t seek to turn flawless synthetic gems into enormous gaudy trophies. Our true work is to recognize beauty in imperfection and to release it. To bring it out. To enhance it. We are artists who have chosen surgery as our method and human flesh as our medium.”
“I see,” Alexei said. “And there’s nothing you would recommend for the girl?”
“Would you rather buy a car that appears perfect but that you know has had extensive bodywork, or one that was perhaps minutely and uniquely flawed, but entirely original and genuine?”
“What about something simple like body hair removal? She’s older than she looks.”
“Indeed she is. Another mark in your favor, incidentally.”
“Why is that?”
“Youthful appearance without all of the—well, the physical limitations of youth. Anyway, we can certainly consider epilation if you’d like, but I wouldn’t recommend it. You never know what a particular client’s tastes might be, and genetically induced epilation is a simple process that can be done any time.”
Alexei had his own ashtray on his side of the cushions and he nodded as he rolled his cigar’s ash into a point. “I appreciate your advice, doctor. I hope you will still allow me to compensate you for your time.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Alexei leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. He looked down between his legs, then finally shook his head. He was well aware of the fact that the most dangerous gangsters were those who deal in currencies other than money. “Forgive me, but I don’t think I understand what’s going on here. You knew all this before you even saw Ki, didn’t you?”
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