by Cindy Pon
It should have been me.
Lingyi and Iris clung to each other for a long time; Iris’s tall, lean frame seemed perfectly matched to Lingyi’s more petite one. Their embrace made me think of Daiyu. I didn’t want to think about her, either, and shoved the thought from my mind. Finally, Lingyi lifted her eyes and looked at me, standing like an interloper by the windows. “Zhou,” she said with a timid smile. “You’re here.”
“I’m here,” I said, and slipped my knife into its hidden sheath.
Lingyi stepped away from Iris, but not before kissing her on the cheek. She came to me, and I remained where I stood, motionless.
“I’m sorry, Zhou,” she said, opening her arms to me. “I’m so sorry.”
I shook my head in confusion. What was Lingyi apologizing for? Then she wrapped her arms around me, and I felt the grief swell in my chest, my eyes stinging with tears. I hugged her back and tried to speak, but nothing came out. “Shh,” she whispered. “It’s all right.” Her voice cracked.
But nothing was all right.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered.
“Me too,” I managed to reply.
“Are you willing to help me make things right?”
I grinned even as I wiped the wetness from my eyes. “Always.” I paused. “How did you get in?”
Lingyi grinned back and lifted a shoulder. “I made my own key. These hotel rooms are ridiculously easy to hack. I stayed in a posh hotel room along the Bund, much to the confusion of the housekeeping staff after I left, I’m sure.”
Iris joined us, shaking her head. “You are damned messy, love.”
“Am not,” Lingyi retorted with indignity, but not much conviction.
“They probably wonder what typhoon swept through,” Iris replied.
I smiled.
“Are we safe here?” Iris asked.
Lingyi’s expression turned serious. “For now. But time isn’t on our side. Jin’s hunting for me.”
Iris gripped Lingyi’s hand. “What?”
I felt the heat rise to my face. “Tell us everything,” I said.
We sat huddled together on the plush sofa of our hotel suite, together again. Connected. Lingyi told her story in small bursts, having to pause often to gather herself. Her hands visibly shook when she recounted Jany’s murder and seeing the body. She recounted the scene with halting words, and the rage I felt toward Jin filled me with hate. It wasn’t enough that he murdered meis without a second thought, but he never had to deal firsthand with its devastating effects. We were soldier pieces in a chess game existing only to serve his own agenda, completely dispensable.
By the time Lingyi was finished, we were sitting in the dark; the only light was the golden glow of the buildings on the Bund and the flickering neon from the skyscrapers across the river. We were starving but reluctant to order room service and give a stranger access to our suite. “There’s an executive lounge by the reception area, Zhou,” Lingyi said. “I scoped out the hotel before you arrived. There’s food there—only light snacks and desserts, but free for the taking.”
“I’ll be quick,” I said, leaving the girls. When I glanced back, Lingyi had laid her head on Iris’s shoulder, and Iris was stroking Lingyi’s purple hair, whispering softly to her. My heart swelled with love for them, for the feeling of being with family again. Quietly, I shut the door behind me.
The executive lounge was empty on an early Sunday evening. I imagined all the tourists staying in the hotel were out on the streets of Shanghai, enjoying the sights and food from its varied restaurants, from street food to five-star establishments. I walked along the tables laid out with finger foods and desserts, piling two large plates with everything: sandwiches, custard and red bean buns, small platters of cold cuts with seaweed, marinated tofu steak, and stewed eggs. I was filling another plate with small strawberry sponge cake, biscuits, and mango pudding cups, wondering if I could manage to carry everything back to the suite, when a family came into the lounge. The mom passed me, giving me a once-over. I was dressed in a faded gray T-shirt (actually designer: Vic told me we paid for the “expert” fading) and black jeans, but with my hair falling into my eyes, I knew I looked like someone who had just walked off the streets.
“Mommy,” a girl with two pigtails exclaimed. “Is he gonna eat all that?” She pointed directly at me, mouth agape. Her mother tugged her hand, shushing her, and went to a table in the farthest corner of the room.
I tried not to laugh.
“Yeah, bro,” a familiar voice said behind me. “Are you gonna eat all that?”
“Arun,” I said, setting the plates down.
We hugged, and he clapped me on the back. His spiked hair was still orange at the tips, but more red at the roots. “It’s good to see you,” I exclaimed.
“Really?” He grinned. “I wouldn’t have guessed it with the way you and Iris left me behind in Taipei like you were criminals about to rob the imperial palace.”
I laughed. “Really, though”—Arun and I bumped fists—“it’s been too long.”
“That’s the truth,” he replied. “Can I help you with that?”
We loaded up a fourth plate with as much food as we could carry, much to the consternation of the mom as she whispered to her husband about us. I flashed her a smile and winked as we left the lounge. Her eyes rounded at that, and I heard her daughter saying, “Did you see the greedy man smile at us, Mommy? He’s friendly!”
“Man, Zhou,” Arun said. “You’re shameless.”
I laughed again. “I had to steal food for so long to survive. . . .” I paused, remembering those endless years of gnawing hunger, of fighting to live. “I guess it’s second nature still.”
Arun snorted. “Please. Enough of the sob story. I know those leather boots you’re wearing cost at least a few thousand yuan.”
I glanced down at my shoes. “Vic got them for me.”
“That Victor,” Arun said. “He always did have great taste.” But the humor had died from his voice.
Arun’s surprise appearance elicited happy exclamations from Lingyi and Iris when we entered the suite. We caught Arun up on what was happening as we made a meal of our makeshift feast. We were enjoying our espresso drinks, and tea in Lingyi’s case, when Arun finally said what was on all our minds. “So what do we do now?”
“We have to get Jany’s MacFold back,” Lingyi said in a quiet voice edged with a fierceness I recognized. She wouldn’t back down until she accomplished what she aimed for.
“But how?” I asked. “Are we able to track her device?”
Lingyi shook her head. “That was the reason Jany asked for help. I encrypted her computer and secured it—its location is untraceable.”
“Then it’s impossible,” Arun said.
“There is one way,” Lingyi replied, staring into her tea mug. “I left a signature on the device—a personal stamp that I’m the architect behind the encryption.”
“Why would you do that?” I asked.
“For emergency purposes,” Lingyi replied. “I can only be found if I want to be found. I’ve been dark so far.”
“But why would Jin look for you? He can hire whoever he wants to break the encryption,” Arun said.
“It would take months, and there’s no guarantee,” Lingyi said. “Jin doesn’t have months. I’m his best, possibly only bet to get his hands on the data.”
“Are you suggesting that you want to get kidnapped by Jin to get to Jany’s device—” I asked, but was cut short by Iris.
“No,” Iris said. “No fucking way.”
Lingyi rested a hand on Iris’s arm. “Darling . . . ,” she said in English.
“Don’t try and sweet-talk me, Lingyi!” Iris looked furious, but I knew she was bordering on panic. “What do you think Jin will do when you unlock the machine for him? You’ll just be another person he kills to get what he wants.”
“I can bide my time . . . ,” Lingyi said. “Until you come to get me.”
“How?” Iris d
emanded. “The first thing they’ll do is get rid of all the devices on you. We won’t have a way to track you!”
“We could implant a tracker in me,” Lingyi said.
“What?” Iris and I exclaimed at the same time.
Arun nodded. “It’s true. They are barely the size of a grain of rice.”
Iris rounded on Arun. “Are you actually agreeing to this scheme?”
“I’m only listening”—Arun lifted his hands—“and offering my expertise. This falls in the realm of biotech.”
“It’s not the same without Vic,” Lingyi said in a soft voice.
“No, it’s not,” Arun agreed. “He’d be up on the latest and how to get it. But I think with some research, I’d be able to get my hands on this fast.”
I rubbed my temples, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. “So we let Jin find Lingyi and take her; the tracker will lead us to her and to Jany’s device.”
Iris shook her head. “You have no idea where Jin might take her—it could be another country. It could be to some maximum-security fort we could never break into.” She grabbed Lingyi’s hand. “I can’t let you do this. Not after Vic; we can’t lose you, too.” She kissed Lingyi’s fingers. “I can’t lose you. Please.”
“It’ll work out, my heart.” Lingyi touched Iris’s cheek. “Trust me.”
Iris leaped off the sofa and stalked away, looking like she was ready to punch a fist through the wall. She knew Lingyi as well as I did—better. There was no changing Lingyi’s mind.
“Iris is right,” Arun said. “There’s a high chance that we might not get to you in time. Then Jin has the tech, and he’ll have you, too.”
“I know.” Lingyi met my and Arun’s gaze with clear eyes. “But do any of you have a better idea? I’m open.” Then she looked toward Iris’s tense back, and her brow knitted together. “I made a promise. I couldn’t save Jany’s life, but I can do this.”
“Well,” I said. “You know I’m here to back you.”
“You too, Zhou?” Iris asked. “You support this? When we’re all still grieving for Victor? Lingyi, you just witnessed another murder. You’re in shock. You aren’t thinking straight.”
I stood, palming my knife, filled with too much nervous energy not to do something with my hands. “I’d take her place if I could, Iris. She’s made up her mind. All we can do is make sure we get her back as fast as we can from Jin. Safe.”
“It doesn’t have to be for nothing, even if my life is at risk,” Lingyi said in a soft voice. “I can send the data to you and destroy the device if I have to.” She nodded once at Arun. “Jin might have me, but he won’t ever have Jany’s design. Not if I can help it.”
Arun’s mouth was drawn in a taut line. “The man murdered my mom. I’m willing to do whatever I can to stop him from profiting further from innocent people’s deaths.”
Iris had looked furious, as if she could argue for days, but then she closed her eyes at the mention of Dr. Nataraj. We had all loved her, looked up to her as someone actively fighting for a better world. And she had died senselessly for it. Her death, like Jany’s, was on Jin.
“I’ll look into getting the tracker I can inject under your skin. It shouldn’t take too long on the Shanghai undernet.”
“Thank you, Arun,” Lingyi said.
I spun my butterfly knife, and none of us said anything else, but the air felt heavy with words unspoken.
We all slept in the next morning, exhausted, as if in an attempt to delay the inevitable. Arun had arranged to buy the tracker from a seller at midnight near Yuyuan. He met the seller alone, but I tailed him, not far behind the entire way in case he ran into trouble. But the exchange went without a hitch.
“My sources say this guy’s reputable,” Arun said as we walked back to the hotel. “As reputable as one can be for selling stolen or banned goods on the black market.”
I rolled out of bed at noon and took a quick shower before heading out in search of food. I roamed through the backstreets, behind the Bund. Pedestrians were grabbing lunches from roadside carts frying omelets or selling stacks of fried chicken and sausages. I pushed my way past a small crowd of older men, all smoking cigarettes between hacking coughs, their face masks hanging loosely around their necks. I peered over one man’s shoulder and saw that there was a small table set up. Two men with close-cropped hair were playing an animated game of chess, ignoring the suggestions that were shouted at them by others who looked on.
Not far from the chess game, I smelled the delicious aroma of fresh cakes. Within half a block, I came upon a corner store bakery, an open stand really. Suddenly starving, I was tempted by everything I saw. I waited behind three other customers before buying sponge cakes, sesame rolls, and red bean rice cakes for everyone.
When I returned, my friends were all up, converged in the main sitting area once again. Arun lifted his chin at me in greeting, before accepting a large sponge cake. “I’ve injected the tracker under Lingyi’s skin. We’ve already tested it, and I was able to track her, no problem.”
Iris crossed her arms and didn’t say anything, obviously still upset over our plan.
I made espresso drinks for us with the machine in our room and brewed a large mug of green tea for Lingyi as everyone shuffled through the bags of fresh-baked goods I had brought back. But no one said anything. The tension was thick in the room. If anything happened to Lingyi, Iris would never forgive us. Hell, I would never forgive myself.
A part of me thought that no matter how hard we fought or tried, we could never best Jin in the end. But a larger part didn’t want the bastard to get away with anything else. I trusted that Lingyi could handle herself, but I knew that, once again, the odds were stacked against us.
I carried the hot drinks over to the group, allowing myself to enjoy the rich aroma of the espresso, before sitting down beside Lingyi on the sofa. Her face was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes. “I can tail Lingyi too.” I downed my shot of espresso before going on. “This way, we have both me and the tracker on her. Unless you want to follow her, Iris?” Iris was faster than I was and more agile.
“No,” Lingyi said. “I don’t want it to be Iris.” She looked toward Iris, who was hunched against the wall away from the group. “It’d be too personal for her.”
Iris turned her face away and gazed out at our expansive views of the river.
“It’s a good idea,” Arun said. “If Zhou can follow Lingyi discreetly from the start, we can be there as backup soon after, using the tracker.”
“I’m stocked up on my throwing knives,” I replied.
Iris nodded. Her weapon of choice was the sleep spell injection that knocked anyone out within seconds and wiped their memories.
Arun handed Iris and me cheap imitation Palms. “We can use these to message, call, and track each other. I’ve programmed all our temporary numbers into them. Stay offline with your own devices.”
I pocketed the dummy Palm.
“Iris, could I speak with you alone?” Lingyi asked. She had barely made a dent in the giant sponge cake on the plate in front of her. But her tea mug was almost empty.
At first, it was as if Iris didn’t hear her. Then, with long strides, she walked into their bedroom, and Lingyi rose to follow.
Arun and I sat in silence for a long time. Finally he spoke. “Everything will be okay.”
But it sounded more like a question than a statement.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lingyi and I set out in the afternoon. She left first, disappearing into the throng of pedestrians and tourists on the sidewalks. I followed half a block behind, glimpsing a flash of her bright purple hair every so often. The side streets were filled with taxis and cars, but as we passed the main boulevards, men and women had enough space to ride past on bicycles, some precariously stacked with boxes and goods in the back, tied down with cords. They teetered on the edge of the wider streets, as cars and trucks honked at one another, trying to inch their way forward in the congested traffic.
The simplified writing on store signs and trucks was disconcerting; some characters were close enough that I knew the word, and others were so changed it was unrecognizable—a strange dissonance. Lingyi had her Palm and would have turned it on by now, letting Jin’s men know her exact location if they were looking for her. I thought of Daiyu with a pang. She would be really worried by now because I’d completely dropped off the grid. Yet why should I be the one feeling guilty, when she had lied to me for so long about being in contact with her father?
I pushed past the pedestrians, focusing on Lingyi. They threw dirty looks but gave way. Lingyi took her time, pausing outside a bakery window, then lingered in front of a woman selling embroidered slippers set out on a woven blanket. She examined the shoes, never glancing up to look over her shoulder or toward the cars on the narrow street. I was more nervous for her than she appeared.
She moved on to the next block, and I followed, the pedestrians stepping aside for me, probably because I looked like I was ready to knife someone.
Lingyi paused again, peering into a shop window while checking the messages on her Palm. She looked so vulnerable, exposed, as others tramped past her, all noise and bustle. In contrast, she was a study in stillness, her shoulders tense, her eyes focused on her device.
She’d been online for almost thirty minutes. I wondered how long we’d have to wait—or if Jin wouldn’t come for her at all. The thought had barely emerged in my mind when a black sedan pulled up right next to the shop Lingyi had stopped at. My heart lurched. Lingyi was still turned toward the shop window, oblivious, when a tall man jumped out of the car.
I was already on the move, pulling myself up onto the bamboo scaffolding that lined the buildings along the sidewalk. All of Shanghai seemed under construction. It gave me a perfect view as the stranger threw an arm around Lingyi, knocking her Palm from her hand, before forcing her into the sedan. She struggled, but the brute was big, and it was like watching him drag a rag doll into the car.