Chief thinks a moment. “That is so totally crazy, but it’s a hell of an idea. So how do we get in touch with them?”
Melva hands him a piece of paper. “Don’t give that to nobody. Kathy told me if this number got out, the foundation would hear every sob story in the solar system, and nobody would get anything.”
“Well, we certainly don’t want any aliens getting any cash before we do.”
“Huh?”
“It’s a joke, Melva. It’s a joke.” Chief looks at the small torn sheet of paper. On it is a handwritten name and phone number.
Noah Reid. 011.1.427.84920
“That’s a Hong Kong phone number, but Kathy says you can reach Noah anytime.”
Chief leans over the table and gives Melva a big kiss.
“I love you, Melva.”
For maybe the first time in her life, Melva is speechless.
Chapter 12
Wednesday 1 a.m.—Hong Kong
The helicopter ride back to Shanghai is somber. What had been a spectacular and mystical alpine magnificence to the virgin eyes of Mrs. Wang are now agonizing reminders to her that the lives that her husband and son chose are not only subject to the whims of the gods but to the evils of man. Ten days ago, she was a happily married woman with a son who had hinted grandchildren were in the offing.
Today, she is childless widow with no hope of a legacy. She decided one thing on this journey: Like her husband and son, she will be a warrior. She will not allow anything or anyone to intimidate her.
When Noah and Olivia asked her to stay with them in their hotel, she refused—she would not leave her nest. When the couple cogently argued that it was not safe for a single elderly woman to be by herself, especially given what happened earlier that day, she remained firm in her resolve.
Which is why Olivia and Noah, instead of spending their night in Shanghai in a luxury suite at a thousand dollars a night, are spending it in JJ’s small cramped non-air-conditioned room where the temperature is over a hundred degrees. Instead of a king-sized bed with a fifteen hundred thread count Egyptian cotton sheets with a perfect temperature of seventy degrees, the two are crammed into JJ’s single bed, melting and sweltering without any linen at all.
Despite the heat and lack of air circulation, sleep never seems to be a problem for a guy, and Noah is no exception. There could be a typhoon outside, and he wouldn’t wake up.
Not Olivia though. She tosses and turns constantly. She has also made half a dozen trips to the bathroom—at least there’s a flush toilet now, unlike when the building was first erected.
Lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, she realizes she’s hungry and leans over and taps her sleeping husband.
“Noah. Noah.”
Noah’s response is to snore louder, so Olivia starts rapping him on the head with her knuckles.
He awakens with a start. “Hey, what gives?”
“I’m hungry, Noah,” Olivia pouts.
“You could just go to the kitchen and get something.”
“They’re Buddhists. Vegetarians. I want meat. Steak, medium rare.”
“It’s almost two a.m. Where are we going to find a steak house in Shanghai at this time?”
Before she can answer, Olivia goes to the bathroom again, except this time she runs there.
Noah hears her retch, then retch some more. After a solid minute, it hits the dry heave stage.
And then silence.
Noah’s awake now, and when Olivia still doesn’t return after a few minutes, he steps to the bathroom and knocks on the door.
“Olivia? Olivia?”
There’s no answer so he opens the door. Olivia is staring at a small plastic rectangular unit with a colored screen.
“It’s a double, Noah.”
“Double what?”
She shows him the unit and on the screen are two pink lines.
“So?”
“So that means I’m pregnant. You’re a father, Noah.”
Olivia starts laughing and crying at the same time. Noah’s in a daze and stands there stunned.
“I knew it. I just knew it.”
Olivia and Noah look to the door to see Mrs. Wang smiling at the entrance. “You have the look, Olivia. I knew it as soon as I met you.”
Olivia gets up and hugs the elderly woman. Then the two women hold hands and start dancing.
Noah makes his way out of the crowded bathroom and toward the door to the apartment.
“Where are you going, Noah?”
Noah looks back. “I’m going to get a steak for you and a double scotch for me.”
When a life ends, a new one begins. It’s the circle of life.
***
Half an hour later, Noah enters the apartment and calls, “Sorry, no steak, but I did find myself a scotch.”
When there’s no answer, he goes to JJ’s bedroom to find a concerned Mrs. Wang sitting in a chair, holding the hands of Olivia, who lies in the bed.
“What’s happening?” asks a confused Noah.
Olivia says softly, “Noah, I started bleeding. Mrs. Wang said I needed bed rest and that she would stay here to make sure I don’t move.”
“But we’ve got to get up soon. It’s going to be rush hour and hell to get to the airport.”
“Olivia’s not going anywhere,” states Mrs. Wang.
“But we’re going catch a plane to Prague.”
“Olivia is not going anywhere. Women in her condition should not move.”
“I never heard of anything like that.”
“That’s because you’re not a woman.”
“That’s the Chinese Way, Noah,” says Olivia.
“Mrs. Wang, let me call an obstetrician. I’m sure he’ll tell me there’s not a problem to travel.”
“If it’s a Western doctor, of course he’ll agree, but every Chinese doctor will tell you she should not be moving. No walking, running, shopping and definitely no getting onto planes and traveling around the world.”
“But… ”
“No buts. You can call it karma, you can call it The Way, you can call it God. You are here, and it is no accident. Olivia is not leaving. You go if you want, but Olivia is staying here.”
Noah sees that Olivia is siding with Mrs. Wang.
“Okay, okay. I will start looking for an apartment.”
“Didn’t you hear me, Noah? I said Olivia is going to stay with me… Besides… besides, we found out about it when you were on JJ’s bed.”
“So?”
“Noah, stop being dense,” says the new mother. “What Mrs. Wang wants to say is that this is JJ’s baby, too.”
Noah gulps. “Right.”
“Mrs. Wang?” rasps Olivia.
“Yes, dear.”
“My parents and Noah’s parents are no longer with us. Will you be our child’s grandmother?”
Mrs. Wang beams from ear to ear.
“I would be honored.” She continues excitedly, “Actually, I can live with you. I can cook; I can clean. I can be the ahma.”
Before anyone can respond, RING!
Noah’s cell phone sounds. He puts it on speakerphone.
“Hello. Noah Reid here.”
“Hello, Noah. This is Chief Dan Feather from the Coyote River tribe in Oregon. I got your name from Kathy, one of your youth workers in New York.”
“Hello, Chief Dan. Yeah, we just hired Kathy. Seems like a real nice girl.”
“Just call me Chief.”
“Okay, Chief. Can I help you with something?”
“I’d like to invite you to Oregon.”
“That would be wonderful. I will be back in America later this year. Maybe in three months or so?”
“Actually, can you be here tomorrow?”
Noah rolls his eyes. Everybody always wants things yesterday. “That’s not possible right now. What is the problem, Chief?”
“Our casino complex, Coyote River, is in trouble, and we’re going to go bankrupt if something doesn’t happen ASAP.”
&
nbsp; Noah frowns. “Chief, I don’t know what Kathy told you, but we’re not in the casino or gambling business.”
“The Chad Huang Foundation exists to help at-risk youth, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, we want to close the Coyote River and turn it into a center that will help our youth. Our tribe has serious problems. Drug addiction, violence, alcoholism, pregnant children… ”
The empty moments scream loudly.
Noah speaks softly. “I see. Maybe the foundation can help or at least make suggestions. How much are we talking about?”
“There’s an offer on the table now to pay off our debts and keep it going as a casino for three million bucks. So it’s got to be more than that.”
Noah whistles. “Wow! Okay. Email me the details. I’ll change my schedule and see if I can come next month.”
“That’ll be too late. The bank forecloses next week.”
Another difficult moment. Then Olivia speaks up.
“Hi, Chief. This is Olivia Southam Reid, the vice president of the Chad Huang Foundation. I will be there tomorrow.”
“Thank you so much, Olivia. I’ve got your email address from Kathy and will get our coordinates to you.”
“Thank you. See you in Oregon.”
Click.
Noah glares at Olivia. “We just agreed that you aren’t going anywhere.”
“I’m not. You are.”
“You manipulated me. You knew I wouldn’t let you go by yourself. I don’t want to leave you.”
“Noah, there is nothing you could do even if you wanted to. You know nothing about babies, obstetrics or medicine.”
“It’s our baby, Olivia. I just can’t do nothing.”
“It’s because of our baby that you’ve got to go.”
Czechoslovakia 1968
Karl Novak, a frightened nineteen-year-old, hides under a pile of straw in a railway car. His parents were supporters of Alexander Dubček against the Russians during the “Prague Spring,” and that morning, he saw them beaten to death for advocating liberal policies.
Twenty years earlier, they had managed to survive the Stalinists, but their luck had run out.
He had no idea where he was going. He had no money. He had no papers. All he had were the words in his heart that his father said to him before he was taken away.
“I wanted to change the world for you. Do not disappoint me, or I will have died in vain.”
“My grandfather somehow made it to England where he and his wife bore my mother. They passed that legacy onto her, and I want to pass it on to our child. Don’t let my grandfather have died in vain, Noah. What kind of world do you want our child to live in? What’s she going to think when she finds out that her father let a generation sink because you wanted to stay with me to do nothing? That’s going to be a huge guilt trip on her, Noah.”
“Then come with me. I’ll get a doctor to come with us.”
“No,” says Mrs. Wang. “I’ve already told you, she is not moving from the bed except to go to the bathroom. No Czech Republic. No Oregon. No Hong Kong. No planes. No cars. No buses.”
Noah grits his teeth. This is so not a fair fight. Two against one… no, three against one.
“I’ll catch the next plane, have my meeting and come back right away. Should be back in two days,” says Noah with resignation dripping from each word.
Considering there’s no nonstop flights from Shanghai to the reservation, that’s a pretty optimistic schedule.
Chapter 13
Tuesday Morning—Oregon
It’s Tuesday morning in Oregon, and six of the seven members of the gambling subcommittee sit around the white oak table, waiting anxiously for the meeting to begin. Looking into issues of problem Native American casinos is highly politically sensitive, and while he would have preferred to handpick people who would go along with whatever he said, Hiram did choose a true cross section of Oregonians, geographically, ethnically, religiously and politically.
Hiram himself traces his Oregon roots for a hundred and fifty years when his great-great-great grandfather came west from Ohio to discover the land of opportunity in the West. Throughout the generations, timber has been a mainstay of developing the family fortunes.
Senator Hiram, for all his pork barrel politics extravagances, runs this committee with a tight rein. He knows the stakes, and he knows how to milk every lobbyist that made a presentation. He’s made over a million bucks cash while pretending to be interested in people like Prez.
Hardware store owner Thomas Halpern is a family values Mormon and at twenty-nine is the youngest member of the subcommittee. If it were up to him, all gambling would be illegal. As it’s not up to him, Thomas feels it’s his duty to make sure that it doesn’t go overboard.
Would-be-cougar, Susanna McConkey is about as brainless as they come. Despite trying every diet and exercise program known to womankind and spending a fortune in cosmetic surgery, Susannah looks ten years older than her actual forty-nine years. Her wealthy husband, a successful furniture dealer in Portland, spent a fortune to get her elected so he could get her out of his hair.
Two-term legislative member Carol Lee is hardworking and ambitious. A high school physics teacher from Eugene and mother of two teenage boys, she hopes someday to be the first Asian-American female governor of a state. In addition to this subcommittee, she is also on groups concerning education, diversity and economic development.
Ian Simpson is totally committed to the outcome of this committee. He hates flying so he drives eight hours from Ontario, close to the Idaho border, to get to this meeting. However, he is hoping someday to get a private gambling casino of his own, so he is willing to suffer to find out the behind-the scenes goings on.
Thirty-three-year-old Krystal Johnson is one of those people caught between two worlds: she knows that things cannot continue as they are but longs to regain the tribe’s proud heritage.
And then there’s Sandy. Sandy is a committed environmentalist, dead set against development of any kind. In terms of gambling, she is agnostic or at least she was. Ever since Prez made a presentation a year earlier, she had been trying to figure out how to get to know her better. Her late parents left her a decent, but not sizable, amount of money, not enough to be part of the Oregon elite, but enough so that she can afford a Tesla.
And then they wait another fifteen minutes. Coffee’s getting cold as temperatures start to rise.
“Where the hell is Hiram?” asks Thomas. “He tells us he wants us to start at ten, so I get no sleep, break the speed limit nonstop to get from Canyonville to here in two hours. It’s almost ten thirty, and he’s still not here.”
Sandy, as the vice chair, looks at Thomas and wonders how much more about him Prez knows, other than his drinking preferences. “Don’t worry. He’ll be here.”
“Maybe he’s gone to get a haircut.” Brainless Susanna giggles.
“Which one?” jokes Krystal. She, of course, is referring to Hiram’s ridiculous combover, which is the subject of mockery throughout the Legislature.
“How about we just be serious?” says Sandy. “We’ve really got to make some decisions about Coyote River.”
“If we don’t get a bailout of some kind, the decisions will be made for us,” says Krystal. “The credit union won’t give us any more extensions.”
“How can we give direction when you people don’t even know what you want?” spits out Carol.
“I am not ‘you people,’” says Krystal.
“Stuff the political correctness. You know damn well what I mean, Krystal. We say yes, somebody from the tribe’ll picket us. We say, no, somebody else is going to organize a protest rally. And where the hell is Hiram?”
“I’d appreciate you not swearing,” says Susannah. “It’s offensive.”
“I’d appreciate you helping us make a decision,” says Thomas. “We’re here because you guys need a decision now.”
“It’s an important issue for my people,” says Krystal. �
�You took away our fishing and our hunting… ”
“Give me a Tylenol. I’m getting a headache,” says Ian.
“That’s an assumption that you have a head to start with.”
And the bickering and bellyaching goes on. There’s another reason the subcommittee is anxious to meet.
The next election. Gambling is a contentious issue, Native American gambling even more so. The possibility of non-Natives getting involved is an issue that could be a firecracker in the next election, but that’s another three years away. If they can pass an unpopular decision now, hopefully the electorate will have forgotten it by then.
The best solution in politics (as in life) is a win-win, and Sandy’s sure she’s got that in the bag. While the group has been squabbling, Sandy has been formulating her exact approach on how she’s going to get Hiram to go along with her outlandish, controversial and amazing idea. It will solve the Native American financial and management problems, it’s going to add hundreds of millions to state coffers, it will be the cornerstone of her plan to ascend to governorship, beating archrival Carol… and it will make Prez eternally grateful to her.
A young aide dashes into the room.
“Excuse me, I have terrible news. Senator Franklin is dead.”
“What?” gasp all collectively.
Lindsay nods. “It seems he had car trouble close to his vacation home. When he and driver stopped to investigate, they were attacked and killed by cougars. There’s no further details, but the state police are certain that that is how it happened. Preliminary results show it was yesterday morning.”
All are dumbfounded. While Hiram wasn’t on any of their Christmas card lists, he was a respected thirty-year member of the Legislature.
“Maybe, we should cancel the session for today, out of respect,” says Krystal. “I’m not in any mood to discuss anything.”
Sandy wants to scream in objection but controls herself and says nothing. It is with great relief that she hears Carol pipe up.
RITUAL SACRIFICE: The Ultimate Alpha Female & Political Corruption on the West Coast (Noah Reid Action Suspense Thriller Series Book 5) Page 9
