He turns right again, goes down another hallway, and exits the main building. He passes through a pair of self-locking doors. They lead to the front end of the nondescript building labeled Entrance K. My kingdom, he thinks, for a cold beer. A visitor leaving the BIU holds the door for him. He thanks her and goes inside. The waiting area is empty. A candy striper is the only person sitting at the front desk.
She gets up and comes his way.
“Mr. Brannigan?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Lucy.”
“Nice to meet you, Lucy.”
Unlike his fair-skinned lover, the teenage volunteer is vintage Australian. She has a deep tan and sun-streaked hair. He can picture her shooting the curl.
“Would you mind completing this?”
From the looks of it, he thinks Ryan probably drafted the form. “Not at all. Do you want some identification?”
“If you don’t mind.” He flashes his license. She doesn’t bother to look at it. “Thank you, Mr. Brannigan. We’re all set. Follow me.”
He wants to ask about Kylie’s condition, but decides he shouldn’t. Bryce wouldn’t want the candy striper discussing his daughter’s status. They’re approaching the restricted area when he considers another potential problem. Kylie’s friends or coworkers might be in her room. He didn’t travel this far to share her with anyone except her parents. Brannigan decides to ask before it’s too late. “Is anyone with Ms. Ryan?”
“Just her mum.”
“Are you expecting anyone else?”
“Not that I know of.”
They pass a large window on their way to the residential quarters. When Lucy sighs, he says, “Tough day to be stuck inside.”
“Fer sure.”
“When are you done?”
“Not until two.”
“Must be a great day at the beach.”
“I packed my board.”
“What’s your best move?”
“Toes on the nose.”
“All ten?”
“Since I was a brat.”
“Where are you going?”
“Bondi.”
“How are they setting up today?”
“The first bommies are peaking at five meters.”
“That’s crankin’. I’m jealous.”
“You could tag along.”
“Today won’t work. How about a rain check?”
“You won’t need one. Ask Miss Ryan to take you.”
“I didn’t know she was a surfer.”
“Her poster is hanging in my bedroom.”
“How good was she?”
“Off the Richter.”
Lucy looks disappointed when he smiles. “Now that she’s grown up, Miss Ryan must have changed.”
“Not a bit,” he says. “You described her perfectly.”
He gives her an orchid from his bouquet. The candy striper’s dimples make an appearance. “Thanks for the pretty flower. I’ll pin it on my dress tonight.”
“I’ve enjoyed talking to you, Lucy.”
“Same here. Did you know Miss Ryan back then?”
He shakes his head. “What was she like?”
“Wilder than the craziest guys. The steeper the face, the harder she attacked it. The girl never backed down.”
Brannigan listens for Kylie’s voice.
But her room is so quiet he could have heard the proverbial pin drop. The door is partially open. He leans forward and looks inside. The space is drab and much smaller than her Hong Kong suite. The furniture is unfinished and appears secondhand. He’s relieved by what he doesn’t see. The room isn’t outfitted with a ventilator, endotracheal tube, or other gadgets.
Kylie appears to be asleep. Her mother is sitting to the right of her bed reading a hardcover book. He doesn’t know whether to enter, knock, or whisper hello. He winds up doing all three. “Hello, Marielle.”
“Come in, Michael. So nice to see you again.”
She lays her novel on the floor, straightens her skirt, and stands up. This time he gives her a kiss on the cheek. His next order of business is finding a home for the flowers. There aren’t any open surfaces nearby. He looks farther afield and spots an elevated plant stand. He moves the resident fern—he thinks it’s fake—and angles the bouquet so Kylie can’t miss it.
He approaches the bed and sees her face. Her appearance is encouraging. She’s wearing lipstick—a soft pink hue—and light eye-liner. He hopes her makeup has something to do with his visit.
Marielle is pouring one for herself. “Can I get you a glass of water?”
“No thanks. I filled up at the water cooler.”
“You must be tired.”
“It hasn’t hit me yet.”
“So many time zones.”
“Today there’s only one. How’s Kylie doing?”
“God answered our prayers.”
He tries to hide his excitement. “That’s wonderful news.”
“We’re very fortunate.”
“Have her seizures stopped?”
“She hasn’t had one since we left China.”
“How about headaches?”
“Once in a while. They’re much milder.”
He goes down his mental checklist.
“Can she get herself out of bed?”
“She’s been doing that for weeks.”
“How long before she goes home?”
“We’re not sure. She could leave right now. But she gets more intensive therapy as an inpatient. She might have a minor operation on her hand. That would extend her stay an extra day or two.”
“Is everything else okay?”
“Long term, we think so. Right now her biggest challenge is regaining her strength. She sleeps twelve hours and still needs morning and afternoon naps.”
“She’ll be back to normal in no time.”
“I wish that were true. Did I tell you about her riding accident?”
“You said she fell off a horse.”
“One of those injuries has come back.”
He glances at the bed. Kylie is still asleep. She hasn’t moved since he arrived. “Which one?”
“Her periods. She’s missing them again.”
“Did she hurt her pelvis in China?”
“No fractures. But she had a lot of bruising.”
“Would that knock her cycle off?”
“The doctors think it played a role. That and the emotional stress. Promise me you won’t offer her another job in China. I’d be a nervous wreck.”
“I give you my word. Not that you need it. She’ll never want to go back.”
“You don’t know my daughter.”
He’s parsing her remark when he hears a ruffling sound from the bed. “Mother?”
“I’m here, darling.”
“You shouldn’t be.” Kylie rolls to the edge of her bed and looks out the window. “It’s a beautiful day. Go outside and enjoy the weather.”
“We’ll see. Maybe later.”
“Who were you talking to?”
“Sit up and see for yourself.”
Brannigan’s stomach tightens when he hears a mechanical noise that reminds him of her Hong Kong ventilator. He relaxes when he sees the bed elevating.
She turns her head to face him.
“Honey, this is Michael Brannigan.”
“Hello, Mr. Brannigan.”
His spirits sink. He can tell from her inflection. She isn’t teasing.
It’s an effort for Kylie to slide off the mattress. Her facial swelling is gone. Her complexion is flawless and she has no scars or discoloration. He likes her floral pajamas. They’re stylish but oversized. She looks ten pounds thinner and her great cheekbones are more pronounced. Her hair is much fluffier than in Hong Kong.
Kylie steadies her upper body and walks toward him. She stays within arm’s length of the bed until she passes its bottom edge. Despite her halting gait, she reaches him without falling. She extends her right arm then draws it back. “Sorry about that. The doctors
have DQed my not-so-good hand.”
He takes her left palm and presses lightly. “This one will do just fine.” She’s wearing her usual perfume. The scent drives him crazy.
“Mum told me you saved my life.”
“The trauma team did that.”
“Not according to her. I’ll always be grateful.”
“I’m glad you’ve recovered.”
“Getting there at least.”
“Keep up the good work.”
“Thanks for visiting me in Hong Kong.”
“We were worried sick about you.”
“And Sydney.”
“I was already in the neighborhood.”
“It’s still a long trip.” Sunlight is streaming into the room. She cups a hand across her forehead and motions toward the window. “I wish I could show you the city.”
He responds, “Some other time,” knowing there won’t be.
Kylie heads back to her nightstand. She changes course midway and walks closer to the mattress. Everything goes smoothly until she stubs her toe. After realigning her feet, she shares a self-deprecating smile with her mother and resumes her journey. She opens the night-stand drawer and takes out a photo of his Hong Kong bouquet. “I never saw your flowers. But thanks to my mother, I’ll have them forever.”
Marielle points at the plant stand. “Look over there, sweetie.” Kylie claps her hands. “More orchids and peonies! You’re a nice man, Mr. Brannigan.”
He corrects her. “Michael.”
“Thank you, Michael. They’re beautiful.”
“Glad you like them.”
“Flowers this nice could spoil a girl.”
“Wait there, Kylie. I’ll get them for you.”
He lays the bouquet in her outstretched arms. She’s still cradling it when her face clouds over. “What’s the matter?” her mother asks.
Kylie directs her answer to Brannigan.
“I’m sorry we weren’t able to work together.”
His face is as dark as hers. “So am I.”
Marielle straightens the pillows and pulls back the blanket. “You’re a little tipsy, honey. Lie down for a while.”
“Okay, Mum.”
Brannigan can’t think of a single card to play. As Kylie adjusts her covers, he knows this is the end. It’s a struggle to put on a cheerful face.
“It’s time for me to leave. You need your rest.”
Kylie doesn't look any happier. “Thanks so much. For everything.”
“It was great seeing you again.”
He had planned for another visit tomorrow. Now he’s glad he didn’t say anything. It would’ve been awkward explaining why his schedule changed.
Marielle accompanies him to the door. He searches for the right exit line. The best he can muster is, “I appreciate your letting me visit.”
“Sorry we’re meeting at another hospital.”
“The location doesn’t matter.”
“It does to her. She doesn’t want people thinking she’s an invalid.”
He replies, “No one will think that,” and hurries out of the room. Speed-walking down the hallway, he hears the click-clack of a woman’s footsteps. Marielle catches up with him as they reach the elevator. “You left so fast, Michael.”
“I didn’t want to get in the way.”
“Is everything all right?”
“The jet lag just hit me.”
“Coming to Sydney didn’t help.”
“I’m glad I did.”
“You made our day.”
Back in the room, Brannigan didn’t ask about Kylie’s amnesia. He thought it would embarrass her. Out here he feels free to ask. “How severe is her memory loss?”
“It’s insignificant. She recalls winning her fifth-grade spelling bee and climbing Kilimanjaro. The most important thing is her future. Going forward her memory should be normal. She won’t need a photo to remember today’s flowers.”
“How much of the past has she lost?”
“The China trip.”
“All of it?”
“The last thing she recalls is phoning me from Sydney Airport. She was excited about working with Professor Chang.”
“I know the feeling. He’s one of a kind.”
A nurse exits the elevator. Brannigan lets the doors close. “Don’t give her amnesia a second thought. It won’t impact her life.”
He moves away from the entrance. “Do they know what caused it?”
“I can’t get into that.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve been forbidden.”
“By Bryce?”
“My daughter.”
He raises his right hand. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“You can’t mention this to her.”
“Scout’s honor.”
“Her prior history made her more susceptible.”
“To what?”
“Post-traumatic stress disorder.”
“Were they specific?”
“It was the riding accident and her divorce.”
“How bad is her PTSD?”
“She’s still flooded with thoughts of crashing trains. They’re so frightening her mind blocks out what actually happened.”
“Is she receiving therapy?”
“Every day.”
“Has it helped?”
“Not with her memory.”
“What’s her long-term prognosis?”
“The PTSD should gradually disappear.”
“How about her amnesia?”
“She’ll never remember the China trip.”
“Even when the PTSD goes away?”
“Not according to the doctors.”
“Did they explain why?”
“They said her coma makes that unlikely.”
“Treatment could bring her memory back.”
“Thankfully that won’t happen.”
The elevator opens again. This time Brannigan steps inside. The doors are about to close when Marielle has the last word. “Kylie declined restorative therapy. She doesn’t want to remember that horrible trip.”
CHAPTER 25
BRANNIGAN’S PLANE TOUCHES down.
He’ll arrive at the dam one day ahead of schedule.
A cab drove him from Liverpool to his Sydney hotel. It took less than thirty minutes to pack his things, post a FedEx shipment to New York, and settle his bill.
He was so anxious to leave Australia that he paid a substantial premium to change the reservations for his China trip. The first-class, business, and economy plus seats were sold out, and he had to settle for a middle seat on a packed flight to Shanghai. When he landed there, he considered spending the rest of the day enjoying the sights. But he decided against it. Touring the city alone would have been a downer.
He rushed to the gate for the next connecting flight to Yichang Airport. He got there just in time. The plane wasn’t full, and he was able to score a first-class seat. He looks at his watch and notices he got here fifteen minutes early.
His plane turns off the runway. He triages his emails as the jet taxis toward the terminal. Houston sent him a memo about a terrorist bombing in Quetta. The Pakistani ambassador advised Global that the attack might delay its upcoming project in Balochistan. The rest of his messages are routine and he defers reading them. He scrolls down his inbox until he reaches the dam’s travel instructions.
Mr. Brannigan
A driver will pick you up at Yichang Airport.
Exit the baggage area after picking up your
luggage. The driver will meet you outside the
building. Look for a sign with your name on it.
Zhou Rong
Brannigan leaves the baggage area and goes outside.
Chauffeurs are everywhere. But one stands out. The short middle-aged Chinese is dressed in cowboy boots, jeans, and a wrangler shirt. He’s holding a poster board with “BRANNIGAN” printed across the top. A high-definition photo shows him exiting his Sydney-Shanghai flight. Game on, he thinks. The Reds no
t only have him under surveillance, they want him to know it.
His driver and a female street cleaner are headed his way. The three of them converge at the edge of the sidewalk. The driver rips up his sign and tosses it in the woman’s rolling trash bin. Brannigan retrieves the section containing his photo.
“Great looking sign.”
“Thanks. I made it myself.”
“Do you work at the dam?”
“My staff doesn’t think so.”
“What’s your name?”
“Zhou Rong. Call me Rocky.”
“I wasn’t expecting a ride from the top dog.”
“We aim to please. How was your flight?”
“Compared to your handshake, painless.”
Brannigan allows Rocky to grab his suitcase.
He’s more territorial about his stringer bag. He lifts Rocky’s hand off the strap and slings it over his shoulder.
“Diamonds?” Rocky asks.
“My Swiss bank records.”
“Smart move bringing them here.”
Brannigan researched Zhou’s background after their initial phone call. The PhD engineer is a senior vice president at China Three Gorges Corporation. He worked at the Beijing headquarters before this assignment. His official title—chief engineer—understates his responsibilities. Zhou functions as the dam’s general manager.
The locals are staring at them. They break out in laughter when Rocky strokes his consultant’s sleeve. “Ritzy clothes, Mr. Brannigan.”
“Only my girlfriend calls me that.”
“How about everyone else?”
“Michael.”
“As in don’t call me Mike?”
“I answer to both.”
“You’re already the center of attention.”
“Story of my life.”
“Can I offer a fashion tip?”
“I’ve probably heard it before. My sister is full of them.”
“No one in Hubei Province owns a suit.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
“Did you bring something more casual?”
“Just my red changshan.”
They pass a sign for the parking lot. Rocky turns in the opposite direction. “Shouldn’t we go that way?” Brannigan asks.
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