“Parenthood changes you.”
“It changed Zara, too, although you’ll never hear her admit it.” Danyael’s laughter was warm, but the humor quickly faded. “I don’t like the work she does for you.”
“It’s not my work. She works for the U.S. government, and only when she feels like it.”
“She’s in Tehran now because you sent her there.”
“America needs her out there. She’s one of the best Middle Eastern and South American operatives alive.”
“Laura needs her mother. Alive.”
“She needs her father too,” Xin pointed out mildly. “So why are you in China interacting with a sociopath who owns the laboratory that has done research on your blood?”
He stared at her.
Xin spoke aloud the answer he did not voice. “Because, in your crazy way, you’re trying to make the world a safer and better place for Laura.” She paused for a beat. “Just like Zara.”
Danyael’s shoulders slumped on a silent sigh. Framed by darkness, he looked alone and vulnerable.
Xin closed her hands into fists and locked them by her side to keep herself from reaching out to him. If he were anyone else, she would have hugged him, but a hug was not something offered to an alpha empath with long-standing hang-ups on any sort of physical contact. “It’ll be all right,” she whispered.
The smile that touched his lips was equal parts bittersweet and ironic. “I know your colleagues call you ‘Xin the Omniscient,’ but not even you know that.” He shook his head. “No one does.”
Long after Xin and Danyael left, Brandon and Yi remained in the penthouse living room. The blazing flames in the fireplace settled into glowing embers as the conversation about Excelsior’s core operations finally faded into silence.
Yi stared down at her hands, her fingers interlaced across her stomach. “How is your wife doing?”
“More bad days than good.” He shook his head. “How close are we to a cure?”
Yi squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment. “I don’t know.”
“You’ve cracked Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s—”
“We developed a delay mechanism, not a cure.”
“But it works.”
“Not on your wife’s disease. We’re tried it several times. And we’ll keep trying,” she added when Brandon’s face darkened with a ferocious scowl. “We’ll need a new approach.”
“Whatever it takes.” Anguish cracked the façade of the polished businessman. “She’s running out of time.”
10
Sin Wang Ai Orphanage, located in the northeastern reaches of Zhengzhou, housed a hundred and fifty children in a modern, well-kept building. The director of the orphanage Kimberly Hawkes, a garrulous elderly American with a sweet Georgian accent, beamed as she showed Xin and Danyael around the premises set on five acres of land. “And here, we have our classrooms. Our children attend local schools, but here we teach them English in the afternoons and prepare them to join a new family, usually outside China.”
“That’s farsighted,” Xin said. “How many adoptions do you get a month?”
“It varies. Adoptions are coordinated by a central government agency. Our responsibility is to house, feed, and love these children until their parents come for them.” Kimberly continued down the corridor and flung open the door to a large room filled with sunlight pouring in through high skylights. Children, ranging from two to six years of age, clustered around toys while adult caretakers watched from their indolent slouches against the wall. Many of them straightened when the director entered—to Xin, not unusual—but she noticed Danyael’s lingering glance at them.
She was not surprised when he squatted by a group of toddlers. Danyael spoke no Chinese, and the toddlers spoke no English, but empathy needed no translator. Within moments, Danyael had a picture book in his hand, a child on either lap, and several more children clustered around him and peering over his shoulder.
Xin was possibly the only adult in the room who wasn’t startled. She shrugged and offered Kimberly a smile. “He’s got a way with kids.” With everyone, if he so chooses. “I don’t think he’ll be leaving this room for a while; perhaps you could show me around?”
“Of course, although there isn’t much left to see.” Kimberly stepped back out into the corridor. “Our administrative offices are that way.” She pointed toward the left. “And our kitchen and communal dining rooms are over there.”
“It’s a wonder what you do here,” Xin noted, turning toward the administrative offices. “You know every child by name. I’m almost certain I know the names of a hundred and fifty of my colleagues, but it’s still an overwhelming number.”
“A hundred and seventy-five if you include the staff.” Kimberly smiled as she walked next to Xin. “I did not learn them all at once; oh no, of course not. But it didn’t take me long; I always did have a head for names, and—oh, this can’t possibly be interesting to you,” she said as Xin stepped into a large office.
Xin’s gaze swept across the room, not lingering on the computer notebook on the table. Instead, she focused on the French windows opening out to the lawn where children lounged beneath the shade of trees. “What a gorgeous view.” With a smile, she stepped around the oak desk to look out the window. “It must be a relief to have clearer skies than Beijing and Shanghai.”
“Oh yes, indeed. The smog in those cities is unbearable. We’re luckier here in Zhengzhou, although with eight million people, we have to be careful. It’s just a matter of time, you know.”
“Yes. Time usually fixes everything. How long have you lived in China?”
“Oh, it feels like forever. My husband came here about three decades ago to work for Shell in Shanghai. I didn’t have anything to do with my time—the company paid for everything—so I volunteered with an orphanage. In the end, it became my life’s work.”
“And your husband?” Xin asked. She turned toward the door, trailing her fingertips against the fine wood grain of the table. Her contact with the computer lasted a fraction of a second.
Kimberly’s bright smile dimmed. “He retired, but we decided to stay in China and moved to Zhengzhou when Sin Wang Ai offered me the orphanage director position. That was a year and a half ago.”
After Danyael’s blood was stolen. After Excelsior began its experiments with live blood transfusions and children. Xin kept her smile in place. “You’ve grown attached to the country.”
“Oh yes, we have.”
Xin lied without missing a beat. “My mother’s thought of moving back to China, too, but she has persistent health issues, and it didn’t seem to make sense taking a chance on China’s healthcare system.”
“Oh, Jake finally retired because he was showing early signs of dementia.”
“And you decided to stay in China instead of returning to America for his treatment?”
Kimberly waved away Xin’s concern. “Oh, honey, they don’t treat dementia any better in America than they do here. Jake’s gotten so much better in the past few months.”
“That’s wonderful.” Wasn’t it, though?
The rest of the tour took Xin through the extensive grounds. Winding paths led to play areas tucked among fruit trees. A three-car garage lay in an outbuilding, and several pavilions offered shade from the sun. The tour wrapped up at the front lobby, and Danyael rejoined Xin several minutes later.
She waited until they were in the car on the way back to the villa. “How are the children?” she asked.
“Anxious, although that’s not unusual for children without families. Most of them are also anemic.”
“Not all?”
“Those with special needs were fine.” Tightly controlled anger threaded through Danyael’s voice.
Xin arched an eyebrow. “I suppose that even research programs flying under the radar have some standards. What about the staff?”
“A few of them—the more alert ones—are suspicious, but they haven’t worked themselves up to outrage. I don’t thi
nk they know what’s going on.”
Xin tried not to sigh; Danyael could be so naïve. “Outrage can be assuaged by a great deal of money, and we know that the foundation has deep pockets.”
“Maybe.” Danyael seemed reluctant to view the world through Xin’s cynical lens. “The director, Kimberly—” He drew a deep breath. “She’s…burdened by necessity.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
“She’s doing something she thinks is terrible but necessary. Her revulsion is muted by practicality, by a sense of inevitability.”
“And you can sense that?”
He looked away. “I’ve felt it often enough in myself to know what it looks like in others.”
Of course. Xin swallowed through the unexpected lump in her throat. Danyael used his empathic powers to kill only in moments of direst need, and each time, he paid the devastating emotional price demanded of a compassionate man driven to kill.
Xin paused for a moment until she was certain her voice was steady. “Kimberly has a husband suffering from dementia. He’s made significant improvements since they moved to Zhengzhou for her to become director of the orphanage.” Obviously, her read on Kimberly matched Danyael’s.
Danyael released his breath in a sigh, and Xin had the oddest feeling he actually felt sorry for Kimberly. He said nothing of it, however. “I know the directors at the International Genetics and Ethics Council. They’ll be willing to open a quiet investigation of Excelsior based on what we’ve found.”
“I’m not done. I planted a tracker on Kimberly’s computer. We might be able to find more dirt on Sin Wang Ai orphanage.” Xin reached for the tablet in her handbag. A few quick taps on the screen activated the tracker—the physical equivalent of her electronic computer worm. She hummed contentedly as the electronic tracker accessed the computer’s files like an eager squirrel rediscovering its acorn stash.
Kimberly Hawkes might have seemed like a genteel Southern lady, but she clearly ran the orphanage with business-like precision. The computer’s folders were neatly organized, and file names were pleasantly descriptive. Xin chuckled. “It just goes to prove people should never put anything in writing—literally or figuratively.”
“Did you find what you’re looking for?”
“Not yet, but I will. I’ll need some time. Shall I have the chauffer take you back to your hotel?”
He shook his head. “No. I’ll wait at your place.”
Four hours passed in the quiet of the study before she pieced it all together. With a sigh, Xin relaxed in her seat and raised her gaze to the sliver of blue visible through the narrow slit that a Tang-dynasty architect had had the gall to call a window. She reached for her phone. “Danyael?” she asked when he answered on the second ring. “Where are you?”
“Downstairs, talking to your mother.”
“I found what we’re looking for.”
“I’ll be right up.”
A minute later, Danyael’s footsteps sounded on the stone stairs. Xin bit back her instinctive question: What had Danyael and her mother talked about? Instead, she beckoned him over to the seat across from her. “If you’re looking for a single incriminatory statement, there isn’t one. What I have is a list of children and the dates they arrived at and left the orphanage. After eliminating the names and dates that matched up with the central adoption agency’s records, the remaining records matched against the genders and approximate ages of the dead children found in Zhengzhou over the past fifteen months.”
Danyael’s eyes widened. “Fifteen months?”
Xin nodded. “Yes, this has been going on for a lot longer than anyone suspected. If the other set of more violent murders hadn’t come to light, the deaths of these children might have passed unnoticed. Kimberly was too smart to include photographs of these children, so there’s no way to match them up definitively unless orphanage staff or other children come forth to testify, but it should be enough for the IGEC to kick off an investigation.”
“We still don’t have the tie to Excelsior, other than the fact that Excelsior Foundation sponsors the orphanage.”
Xin nodded. “That’s what we need to nail down, and I have a possible lead. It’s not exactly a pattern, but it’s the beginnings of one. I don’t think Excelsior would hold on to the bodies overnight; a body constitutes evidence, and they’ll want to get rid of it as quickly as possible. Assuming the bodies are disposed of almost immediately, and based on when they were found, I think we can expect a transfer of children to Excelsior tonight.”
“We have to stop it.”
Xin shook her head. “We have to let it happen. You want evidence? That’s evidence. If you have a recording of live children going into Excelsior and dead bodies coming out, the IGEC will shut down Excelsior in ten minutes.”
Danyael frowned. “So we’ll follow the transfer tonight, get the evidence, and bring the IGEC in.”
“Exactly.” Xin grinned. “Simple. If we’re in the right place at the right time…ten minutes, and we’ll be done.”
Her smartphone rang and she cast a quick glance at the caller ID before accepting the call. “Hello, Yu Long.”
“Did you enjoy your visit to the orphanage?” His tone was biting.
She countered with more cheerfulness than she might have otherwise injected into her voice. “I certainly did.”
“Why were you there?”
She chuckled. “You have unrealistic expectations of what you think I’ll share with you.”
“It’s not related to the murders, then?”
“Not to yours.”
“All right.” Yu Long’s sharp inhalation of breath was audible over the phone. “I have a favor to ask.”
“What is it?”
“It’s an honor, really.”
“Now you’re stalling.”
“The premier and his son arrived in Zhengzhou this morning. They’re attending Angie Ma’s concert at Henan Stadium tomorrow evening.”
“Italian opera?”
“There’s no accounting for taste.” Yu Long cleared his throat. “The premier would like to meet you today.”
“Me?”
“And Ms. Ching Shih.”
Xin frowned into the phone. “How would this meeting with the premier maintain the deliberately low profile of my visit to China? I thought your government didn’t want to make a big deal of it.”
“We don’t. It’s not going to make the news, and we’ll find a way to sneak you in the back, but when he heard that you and Ching Shih were back in China for a visit, he asked to see you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“He’s anti-American. I can’t imagine how any conversation could possibly end well.”
Yu Long grunted. “He can be polite. Sometimes.”
“To male world leaders. His track record with women has been lackluster.”
“I know. It took a lot of fast-talking to unwind the damage he did from his last conversation with the German prime minister. Regardless, he’s asked to see the both of you, and it’s hard to say ‘no,’ you understand.”
“Is that an order, Yu Long?”
“Technically, no, and I can’t make it one. I’m just saying you’ll keep me from getting into trouble if you say yes.”
Xin raised her gaze and met Danyael’s eyes. “A deal, then?” she asked Yu Long.
“What do you want?”
“Danyael and I will be visiting Excelsior tonight, and we’d like an official escort from the Chinese government.”
“You want me to help you break into Excelsior?”
“We need a witness, and if there’s cause for legal action against Excelsior in China, your word will hold up better than ours in a court of law.”
He grunted. “It likely will. What are you looking for in Excelsior?”
“I’ll tell you later. When would you like us to meet the premier?”
“I’ll send a car for you in about two hours. The appointment is at 5 p.m., for a half h
our.”
“And I suppose bringing Danyael is out of the question.”
“The premier hates mutants.”
“I know.” Xin winked at Danyael. “It may enlighten him to meet some mutants.”
“I rather doubt it, and if I did want to ease the premier into becoming a mutant advocate, I wouldn’t start with the alpha empath who can theoretically wipe out entire neighborhoods with a single nasty feeling. I’ll see you in two hours.”
Xin hung up the phone. “I’m scheduled to meet with the premier,” she told Danyael.
“Quite an honor.”
“I’m not sure.”
He frowned. “You don’t think he’ll try to detain you in China?”
Xin’s brow furrowed. Would he?
The black limousine glided to a stop in the circular driveway in front of the mayor’s residence, an antebellum mansion that would have blended perfectly into the Garden District of New Orleans. A young man in a burgundy uniform opened the car door and stiffened into attention as Xin and Ching Shih emerged from the car.
Yu Long stepped out from the front passenger side. He wore a business suit with the careless ease of a Wall Street professional. With a jerk of his head, he dismissed the uniformed employees scurrying out of the white-columned building. They retreated, but their openly curious glances followed Xin and Ching Shih into the mansion as Yu Long escorted the two ladies through art-decorated corridors and across ornate carpets to the eastern wing.
In an antechamber in front of oak double doors, the premier’s chief of staff, a gray-haired gentleman with the bearing of a military officer, rose to meet them. “Thank you for accepting the premier’s invitation with little notice.”
“It was our pleasure,” Xin replied. “I’m surprised he expressed an interest in meeting us.”
The man’s gaze darted to Ching Shih. “He was quite insistent.” He turned and gestured to the double doors. “This way, if you please?”
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