by Kevin Kwan
“Now, we haven’t called anyone yet, Nicky. I wasn’t sure what you wanted people to know, so I held off on calling your mother. Once she knows, the whole world will know.”
“Thanks, Auntie Alix. I can’t deal with my mum at the moment.”
“Have you spoken to Rachel’s mom?” Peik Lin asked.
Nick sighed. “I’ll call her in a little while. I just don’t see the need to alarm her until we know what’s going on.”
The door opened and in walked Eddie and Alistair’s sister, Cecilia, carrying an elaborate arrangement of white lilies.
“Looks like the gang’s all here,” Nick said, trying to force a smile.
“You know me—I couldn’t miss out on a party,” Cecilia said, giving Nick a peck on the cheek as she set the floral arrangement on the seat next to him.
“My God, look at that! Thanks so much, but you really didn’t need to bring anything.”
“Oh, I didn’t bring this. The receptionist outside told me to bring it in for you.”
“That’s strange. Who could it be from? No one knows we’re here aside from you all,” Nick wondered aloud as he slurped down some noodles.
Peik Lin started undoing the ribbons around the vase, and as the plastic wrappings came undone, a note card fell out. She opened the card and started reading it. “HOLY SHIT!” Peik Lin gasped, shoving the vase away from her reflexively. The vase of flowers landed on the floor with a crash, as water spilled everywhere.
Nick leaped out of his chair. “What happened?”
Peik Lin handed him the card, which read:
Rachel,
You have been poisoned with a potentially lethal dose of Tarquinomid. Your doctors will be able to reverse the side effects once they know this.
If you value your life, you will not mention this incident to anyone.
Never set foot in China again.
This is your last warning.
* * *
*1 TIPS is an acronym for transhepatic intrahepatic portosystemic shunt. Try saying that five times fast.
*2 Cantonese for “too fitting.”
*3 Barbecued roast pork and wonton noodles.
9
RIDOUT ROAD
SINGAPORE
Astrid turned on her laptop and composed an e-mail:
Dear Charlie,
Sorry to keep bothering you like this, but I need to ask another favor. Wondering if you can help me get to the bottom of something…
What do you know about Promenade Technologies? Based in Mountain View, CA? Have you ever worked with them before? They acquired Michael’s first company—Cloud Nine Solutions. I need to find out more about this company; specifically, who the people are that own it.
Thanks!
xo, Astrid
She sent the e-mail, and one minute later, Charlie popped up on Google Chat.
CW: Hey! Happy to look into this for you.
ALT: Really appreciate your help.
CW: Any special reason why?
ALT: Trying to get some answers for myself. Have you heard of them?
CW: Yes. But doesn’t Michael know everything you’d need to know?
ALT: Apparently not. Do you know if they are fully owned or partially owned by some Asian conglomerate?
CW: What’s going on, Astrid?
Astrid paused for a few minutes, not sure whether she was prepared to get into it with Charlie about everything that had happened with Michael.
ALT: I’m trying to help Michael get to the truth. It’s a bit complicated…don’t want to drag you into it.
CW: I’m already in it. But okay, I won’t press further. But if you really want my help, it would be better if I had the big picture.
She sat on the edge of her bed, thinking, What do I have to hide from Charlie? He’s the only person who will understand.
ALT: Okay, here goes. Michael’s gotten it into his head that my father—or someone at one of the companies controlled by my family—actually bought Cloud Nine Solutions, using Promenade as a cover.
CW: Why would he suddenly think that?
ALT: Long story, but basically he came across some old papers listing the buyer as Pebble Beach Holding Company, and knowing how much my dad loves golfing there, he’s made this huge assumption.
CW: Sorry to state the obvious, but did you ask your dad if he bought the company?
ALT: I did. And of course he denied it. “Why the bloody hell would I want Michael’s company? I thought it was absurdly overvalued to begin with.”
CW: Classic Harry Leong!
ALT: Indeed.
CW: I don’t think your father has anything to do with this, but would it really matter if he does?
ALT: Are you kidding? Michael’s story has always been that he made it on his own. This suspicion that my family had something to do with his success is driving him up the wall. He thinks my father is trying yet again to control him, control us, etc. We had the biggest fight ever last night.
CW: Sorry to hear that.
ALT: I ended up leaving the house. It was either that or call the police. I’m now at the Marina Bay Sands hotel.
Fifteen seconds later, Astrid’s cell phone rang. It was Charlie calling, so she picked it up and mischievously answered, “Housekeeping?”
“Er, yes, I need someone to come deal with a big problem in my room right now,” Charlie responded, not missing a beat.
“What kind of problem?”
“These cake fetishists had a party in my room, and there are about thirty crushed cakes from Lana Cake Shop all over the carpet, smeared on the walls, on the bed. It looks like people have been rolling around in the cake and frosting, trying out different Kama Sutra positions.”
Astrid giggled. “Sicko! Where do you come up with this kind of stuff?”
“I was surfing the web last night and came across this article on people who get turned on by sitting on cakes.”
“I’m not going to ask what sort of websites you’ve been surfing in Hong Kong—no doubt ones that would be blocked in Singapore.”
“And I’m not going to ask why you’re sitting in a room at Marina Bay Sands, of all places!”
Astrid sighed. “There are very few hotels where I can be sure no one will recognize me. MBS is one of those—it’s mainly tourists.”
“No locals? Really?”
“No one I would know, anyway. When they first opened, my mother tried to go up to the SkyPark with Mrs. Lee Yong Chien and the Queen Mother of Borneo to see the view, but when they found out there was a twenty-dollar entry fee for seniors, Mrs. LYC said, ‘Ah nee kwee! Wah mai chut!’*1 So they ended up going to Toast Box in the mall instead.”
Charlie laughed. “You can’t change those women! It’s funny—my mother used to be so extravagant, but the older she gets, the more she seems to be turning into an obsessive tightwad. You know she won’t let her cooks turn on the lights in the kitchen until seven thirty now? I go over there and they are bumbling around in complete darkness, trying to make dinner for her.”
“That’s crazy! When we go to restaurants nowadays, my mum gets them to tah pow*2 leftover gravy from the dishes. I kid you not. I tell her she’s insane and she says, ‘We paid for it! Why waste all this great gravy? Rosie can put it into tomorrow’s lunch and it will taste so much better!’ ”
Charlie chuckled. “So really, how long are you planning to hide out at the hotel?”
“I’m not hiding. I’m just taking a little break. Cassian and his nanny are with me, and he’s loving the SkyPark pool.”
“You know, the husband is the one that’s supposed to leave. Whenever I got into really bad fights with Isabel, I would either go over to my brother’s or get a hotel room. I couldn’t ever imagine making my wife and children leave the house.”
“Well, you’re a different species than Michael. Besides, he didn’t make me leave. I chose to leave. He got so angry that he began getting physical.”
“What? With you?” Charlie said in shock. I’m going to fucking kill him if he touched her.
“No, come on, Michael would never hurt me, but he completely trashed one of his Porsches. Took a samurai sword and began bashing the hood. I couldn’t bear to stick around and watch.”
“Damn! All because of his issue over who bought the company?” Charlie asked, getting more alarmed by the minute.
“It’s not just that. Things have been bad for him lately. He blew that deal with IBM, he lost the house he really wanted, there was this whole magazine article thing that I won’t even get into, and it seems like all we ever do these days is…” Astrid’s voice trailed off for a minute. I’ve said too much. It’s not fair of me to keep burdening Charlie like this.
Charlie could hear Astrid’s discreet sniffling away from her phone’s mouthpiece. She’s crying. She’s sitting in a hotel room crying.
“I’m sorry, it’s so inappropriate of me to be bothering you with all this when you’re at work.” Astrid sniffled again.
“I’m not really doing much today, but don’t worry, no one can fire me. You know you can call me anytime at all, don’t you?”
“I know. You are the one person who truly understands me. You know what I have to go through with my family. They don’t get what it’s like to have marriage problems.”
“Do you honestly think your brothers are perfectly content in their marriages?”
“Are you kidding me? I think they are all miserable in one way or another, but none of them would ever admit it. No one is allowed to be unhappy in my family. I think only Alex in LA is truly happy—he got away and got to be with the love of his life. It’s just pathetic that Salimah’s not accepted. So ironic, isn’t it, when you think that all the family money originally comes from Malaysia.”
“At least they make each other happy. That’s the only thing that matters,” Charlie said.
“You know, when I visited them a few months ago, I thought to myself, ‘I wish I could do this too.’ Sometimes I wish I could just pack a bag and move to California, where no one knows me and no one cares. Cassian can grow up far away from all the pressures he’s going to have to start facing very soon. And I would be perfectly happy, I swear to God, living in a beach shack.”
I could be too, Charlie thought to himself.
They were both silent for a moment, and then Charlie spoke up. “So what are you going to do?”
“There’s nothing to do, really. Michael will calm down in a couple of days and we’ll go home. If you can help me prove that my father had nothing to do with the acquisition of his company, I’m sure that will go a long way toward making him happier.”
Charlie was silent for a moment. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’re the best, Charlie, you really are.”
The minute he was off the phone with Astrid, Charlie placed a call to his chief financial officer: “Hey, Aaron. Remember the Michael Teo Cloud Nine acquisition back in 2010?”
“How could I ever forget? We’re still writing down the losses on that one,” Aaron replied.
“Why in God’s name did you name the holding company Pebble Beach LTD?”
“Dude, I was standing on the eighteenth hole when you called to tell me to buy the company. It’s the greatest finishing hole in the world. Why are you asking?”
“Never mind.”
* * *
*1 In Hokkien: “So expensive! I’m not coming out with the money!”
*2 Hokkien for “put in a doggie bag.”
10
QUEEN MARY HOSPITAL
POK FU LAM, HONG KONG
Nick was doing the New York Times crossword puzzle on his iPad when the police officer on guard outside the room poked his head in.
“Sir, there’s a couple at reception demanding to see Ms. Chu. They have two cartfuls of food products with them, and the man says he’s her brother.”
“Oh yes.” Nick smiled, leaning over and whispering softly into Rachel’s ear. “Baby…you awake? Carlton and Colette are here. Are you up for seeing people?”
Rachel, who had been napping intermittently all morning, opened her eyes groggily. “Um, sure.”
“Send them up,” Nick instructed the officer.
It had been two days since Rachel had been moved from the intensive care unit to the private ward, and her condition had been steadily improving ever since the doctors discovered the precise drug that had been used to poison her and swiftly administered an antidote.
Soon there was a knock on the door, and Carlton and Colette entered the room. “Hey, Sis! This isn’t exactly what I thought the Four Seasons Hangzhou was going to be like,” Carlton teased, coming up to her bedside and squeezing her hand gently.
Rachel smiled weakly. “You guys really shouldn’t have taken the trouble—”
“Oh, come on! We caught the first flight out the minute Nick called,” Carlton said. “Besides, there’s a sale at Joyce that Colette wanted to get to.”
Colette smacked Carlton’s arm. “When we hadn’t heard from you guys by Monday, we thought you were just having too good a time in Hangzhou without us.”
“A marvelous time, as you can see,” Rachel said drolly, extending her arms to show off her IV tubes.
“I still can’t believe you can get an attack of gallstones when you’re this young! I thought it only happened to old people,” Colette said.
“Actually, it can happen to anyone,” Nick said.
Colette perched on the edge of Rachel’s hospital bed and said, “Well, I’m so glad you’re back on the mend.”
“Did you guys fly down on your smaller plane…Grande?” Rachel asked Colette.
“Oh, you mean Venti? No, no we didn’t,” Colette said, rolling her eyes. “My father has cut off my fleet privileges. Ever since I turned down Richie Yang’s proposal, my parents have been furious and they have this idea that they’re going to teach me some kind of lesson. Can you believe they put a freeze on my bank account, and my Titanium card got revolted? Well, guess what? The joke’s on them, because I can survive just fine without their help—you are now looking at the new international brand ambassador for Prêt-à-Couture!”
“Colette just signed a multimillion-dollar contract with them,” Carlton boasted.
“Congratulations! How fantastic!” Rachel said.
“Yes, I patched things up with Virginie de Bassinet, and now she’s throwing me a party next week at the Johnnie Walker House to make the big announcement. I’ll be in all the ads for Prêt-à-Couture next season, and Tim Walker will shoot the campaign. I hope you’ll be well enough to make it to the party.”
Nick and Rachel remained silent.
“Hey, this crazy girl here insisted on bringing you more food from Daylesford Organic, but the warden wouldn’t let us bring the carts up to this floor,” Carlton said.
“Well, I’m sure the hospital food must be insipid,” Colette remarked.
“Actually, you’d be surprised. I had a beef pie in the cafeteria yesterday that was rather good,” Nick said.
“Thank you so much, Colette. I just started back on solid foods this morning, and I’m craving something sweet,” Rachel said.
“OMG—let’s smuggle up some of the white-chocolate-dipped lemon biscuits for you!” Colette squealed.
“Maybe if I go downstairs with you, they’ll let us bring some stuff up,” Nick suggested to Carlton.
The two of them headed to the lobby. In the elevator, Carlton said, “I’m so relieved to see that Rachel is out of the woods. But why are there police all over the place?”
Nick looked Carlton in the eye. “I’m going to tell you something, but you have to promise it
’s strictly between us, okay?”
“Of course.”
Nick took a deep breath. “Rachel didn’t have an attack of gallstones—she was poisoned.”
“Like food poisoning?” Carlton asked, confused.
“No, someone intentionally poisoned her with a toxin.”
Carlton stared at Nick in horror. “You must be joking.”
“I wish I was. She doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but you know she could have died. Her organs were shutting down one by one, and the doctors were hopelessly trying to figure out what was wrong until we found out she was poisoned.”
“Un-fucking-believable! How did you find out?”
“We got an anonymous letter.”
Carlton gasped. “What? Who would want to poison Rachel?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out. Thanks to my aunt Alix, who knows the chief executive of Hong Kong very well, it’s become an official investigation involving both the Hong Kong and Chinese police.” The elevator reached the lobby, and Nick pulled Carlton to a quiet corner. “Let me ask you…honestly, do you think Richie Yang is capable of something like this?”
Carlton paused for a moment. “Richie? Why would he have anything to do with this?”
“You humiliated him in front of all his friends in Paris. Colette made it clear to everyone that she prefers you—” Nick began.
“You think he poisoned Rachel to get back at me? Bloody hell, that would make him even sicker than I thought! I’d never forgive myself if that were true.”
“It’s just one theory. We’ve been trying to come up with anyone who might have the slightest motive. I think the police are going to want to talk to both you and Colette at some point.”
“Of course, of course,” Carlton said, his brow furrowed in shock. “Do they know what kind of toxin was used?”
“It’s called Tarquinomid. It’s a very hard-to-get pharmaceutical that’s normally used to treat people with multiple sclerosis, manufactured only in Israel. They say it’s sometimes used by Mossad agents for assassinations.”