“So,” I told Lin Lin, “here’s the lowdown: I won’t be able to answer my cell or send any e-mails while I’m at the symposium. Can you cover for me? Please? My parents know I want to totally get away from it all and turn off my cell and not even bring my laptop. If they call, will you answer?”
“Of course,” Lin Lin said. “I’m so jealous.”
“Why?”
“All the subterfuge, the danger…”
“It’s not really all that dangerous.”
Lin Lin cocked her head; she knew I was playing it down. “I wish I could have some excitement like that,” she said. “I want to run off, do something crazy, but I’m too scared. How pathetic is that? Besides, I wouldn’t even know what to do.”
“You’re not pathetic,” I said, but she waved me off.
“You have to promise that when you get back you’ll give me all the juicy gossip. You can’t leave out a single glance or hushed word. Promise?”
I smiled. “Promise.”
6.1
Kiran had arranged for his private plane to fly me to Boston.
I’ll admit, I was nervous.
It wasn’t the flight or the thought of having to piece together the most convincing disguise I’d designed yet but the fact that I’d spend the twenty-hour flight sitting next to Kiran.
I pulled together a new outfit, bought a new wig and new sunglasses.
Since Kiran had spent an hour sitting across the table from me, flirting constantly, I figured he’d had a long enough look to recognize me by now. My costume had to be more than convincing on video, it had to make me appear to be someone entirely different.
Making that sort of transformation a success requires more than makeup, clothing, accessories, and perfume. It requires a change in personality. Psychological studies have shown that people identify their friends and acquaintances more by voice and deportment than by facial recognition. If I didn’t act like Cai, my chances of fooling Kiran were three times better.
For the first time, I had to actually, fully become Painted Wolf.
I kissed my parents good-bye and they finally seemed excited at the thought of me taking a break and getting out. Neither of my parents had ever told me that I studied too much or worked too hard. That was accepted. They certainly noticed if I was slacking. Getting an A– in a class would cause my father to throw a fit and tell me I wasn’t meeting my potential or suggest that the teacher was clearly not up to the challenge of teaching advanced courses. My GPA hadn’t been less than a 4.0 in five years.
My father rationalized my going to a resort by assuming I was going to take a brief break to save my sanity. There’s an expression in China: “A good laugh adds ten years to your life.” According to my father, regularly implemented periods of relaxing and letting down your guard are quite healthy. To me, he always reinforced the importance of sleep, exercise, and mental rest. What justified my relaxing by the side of the pool with my cousin wasn’t my need for recreation but a conscious effort on my part to force myself to ensure my body was at its fighting best. It was there, after all, to support my mind. He saw me as a mental athlete and I had to train properly.
Lin Lin picked me up and drove me to the airport.
I reconfirmed our agreement and then hopped out of the car. I had a lot to do before I boarded my first-ever international flight.
“Have fun!” Lin Lin waved excitedly as she drove off. “See you in a week!”
I had the layout of the Pudong airport memorized and made my way to the terminal and straight to the bathroom to change.
Pudong airport
I locked myself in a stall, pulled out my makeup kit, clothes, and accessories, and got to work. It took half an hour to physically transform into Painted Wolf; it took even longer to find the character inside me. I won’t say I’m demure, but I’m not overly confident, either. I’m happy in my skin, not thrilled by my appearance and abilities but content with them. However, Painted Wolf needed to be more.
She had to kick ass.
The outfit was daring: Black leather pants with a low-slung belt, a black tube top, twenty silver chains, a magnetic silver nose ring, black nail polish, a long black wig with red highlights, combat boots, and oversized mirrored sunglasses. Of course, I was also outfitted with multiple spy cameras: two embedded in the sunglasses frames, one on the belt, and one in each of the large silver earrings I wore.
Security footage of Painted Wolf
I walked out of that bathroom with the sureness of a warrior.
The first concourse I walked down I was self-conscious. I was focused on my steps, on the way my body moved in the leather, and how the sunglasses pressed up against my face. People looked and several of them pointed, which made me feel like a character in a costume.
I stumbled and almost wrecked my ankle on a flight of stairs.
I dropped my bag. It was embarrassing.
I wasn’t doing it right. Painted Wolf wasn’t a klutz.
I had to find my focus. I felt like I was playing dress-up and it was throwing me off my game. This was a mission, as important as any other.
I had to focus.
I needed to lose myself to sell Painted Wolf.
I took a few deep breaths and started walking again.
Painted Wolf was rebellious. She was nowhere and everywhere. She was an ear at the door and an eye at the window. When she spoke, she roared. When she roared, politicians and businessmen quaked, the dishonorable quivered and the broken ran. It was all bluster and bravado but I had to believe it.
I didn’t just walk to the gate. I pushed.
The crowds parted for me.
Children scrambled out of the way.
I used Kiran’s special pass to walk past security with my nose in the air as though I was royalty. I had to keep fortifying myself. In my mind, I played an endless loop of an interview I’d heard with an up-and-coming young actress, the privileged daughter of a well-known politician. It was a quote that made me furious, but it had stayed with me. It was perfect: “I don’t care how it happens or who I have to crush to do it, but I will be a star. I will be a star and the world will fear me.”
I rode on this wave of aggressive energy through the endless hallways to the private-flights gate, where a familiar face waited for me.
Kiran, in a nice suit and shades, smiled.
“I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure you were going to show up,” he said.
“Glad to surprise you,” I replied.
He ushered me through the door to the ramp and I could feel his eyes making their way from my wig to my boots. He said, “You certainly know how to make an entrance.”
6.2
Fifteen minutes later, we were racing through the sky at thirty thousand feet.
The interior of the plane was stunning.
There were ten seats, all of them leather and hardwood. There were flat-screen televisions at each seat, and small refrigerators stocked with all manner of gourmet snacks and drinks. Outside of Kiran and me, there were four OndScan employees, two men and two women. As I walked aboard, they all stood to greet me.
Kiran said, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Painted Wolf.”
They all bowed. I bowed in return, worrying my disguise would slip.
It didn’t.
Kiran showed me to my seat at the back of the plane.
He spoke in Mandarin. I replied in English.
“I’m really pleased you could join us,” he said. “The timing was perfect. I figured why spend the money on a separate flight when you could just hop on our plane. Hope you’re cool with it.”
“Of course, “I replied. “Thank you.”
“The plane has Wi-Fi, tons of movies, food, drinks. Help yourself.”
I nodded my appreciation.
Before he turned to go, Kiran said, “That video you did with Mr. Shifu … wow. Impressive. Must have been pretty tough to get. I imagine you had to do some serious, old-school social engineering.”
“Wasn’t easy bu
t…”
“But that’s your thing. It’s impressive. I think you’re going to enjoy yourself at the Game. Might be the first time you’ve ever really been challenged.” Kiran smiled. “Okay, buckle in. We’re going to take off soon.”
The next two hours, I spent watching the passing clouds and scanning through news feeds on my cell phone. Tunde had posted a few blog entries about his travels. His descriptions of Paris’s airport were hilarious and insightful. Though his posts retained the usual Tunde mirth, the stress he was obviously under was there as well. So much was riding on his success.
As we left the mainland and the ocean became visible beneath the plane, Kiran walked over, sat down beside me, and pointed to a fractus cloud hovering in the distance. A low, ragged stratiform at the leading edge of a cold front.
It looked elegant and ominous at the same time.
“Why the disguise?” Kiran asked. “We’re miles above the world.”
I glanced at him sidelong. “This is who I am.”
“Love it.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
Kiran nodded. “Of course, provided it’s not about details surrounding the Game.” He motioned with his head to his handlers. “At least, not in front of them.”
“It’s not.”
“Okay. Great. Shoot.”
“Why were you in China?”
“Always working,” Kiran said with a grin. “That’s why I want you in the Game. You’re fierce and your mind never stops turning. See, it’s dangerous talking to you, Wolf. Not only are you at least three steps ahead, you see mysteries behind mysteries. I’m afraid, however, that my work in China will come as a bit of a disappointment. I was there on business. Meeting with colleagues.”
“Colleagues, huh?”
“Why is that funny?”
I leaned in. “You know what I do, Kiran. I hear things.”
Truth is, outside of his meeting with Mr. Hark, I had no idea what Kiran was doing in China. I needed to fish for the information. Key to doing that was convincing him I knew more than I did. I had to lure him in, make him drop his guard, and tell me what I didn’t know.
Kiran, however, wasn’t an easy mark.
“Like what?” he asked, playing along.
“China is a very, very big pond. But you’re a big fish. I’ve heard rumors about people you’ve met with. Some of them, let’s say, are less savory than others.”
“We’re talking about Shui Hark, right?”
A lump formed in my throat. It was instant. “Yes,” I said.
“I had dinner with him a night ago,” Kiran said. “He’s rather boring, frankly.”
I had to know where this was going. “He’s a criminal.”
“He is indeed.”
Kiran’s eyes were bright and round and I imagined he could see right through my sunglasses and into my own eyes. “What is it you want most in life, Wolf?”
“What?”
“What is it that you want?”
“Access to information,” I said, knowing exactly what I wanted. “I want to know what other people, in other countries, know. I want to share that information. And, most of all, I want to be able to speak my mind.”
“And the people you videotape? The ones you expose?”
“They are what’s keeping our society from improving. They think they’re entitled to wealth just because they’ve got slivers of power. They want to live in ivory towers and keep the rest of us out. If they built those towers by cheating and stealing, I will bring their towers down.”
Kiran leaned back and applauded softly. “A crusader. Like me.”
“That why you’re having dinners with corrupt industrialists?”
“Of course,” Kiran replied.
“What does that even mean?”
“We’re alike you and me, Wolf. We both look out at the world”—Kiran gestured to the window and the endless stretch of sky beyond—“and we see broken systems, we see helpless people, we see no alternatives. You and I both want to change that. And we’re both willing to do whatever it takes to make it happen.”
“Breaking the law?”
Kiran leaned in. I could smell his aftershave, hints of orange and jasmine.
“I want to re-create the world in our image.”
“Our?”
“You and I,” Kiran said. “People like us, people who aren’t jaded by experience or beaten by failure. Just like you, I realized the people in power would never solve the world’s problems. They created them and have everything to gain from keeping them going. When I was nine, I rounded up all the children in the slums who would listen and together we built a computer. We built a school. We educated ourselves. You know how adult teachers always tell their charges to ‘think outside the box’? Well, the only way to truly succeed, to truly change the world, is to do what only a child can do: Deny there even is a box.”
This was what I had been hoping to hear from Kiran. This was the message beneath the corporate image, the real person beneath the superhero persona that Internet fandom had created. Even better, what he said made perfect sense.
Maybe he was the real deal.
“I’ll be honest with you,” Kiran wrapped up. “The Game isn’t a competition, it’s a recruitment tool. I want to assemble a next-generation team of leaders, of world builders. Tell me, what do you think?”
“Sounds like you’re inviting me to join.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
With that, Kiran turned to face a young woman in a severe jacket and bright red lipstick carrying a tablet. She cleared her throat.
“Sorry,” Kiran said to me. “Back to work.”
He returned to his seat up front and was instantly swarmed by his handlers, each with documents for him to sign and questions to answer.
Still of Kiran from Painted Wolf “button” camera
As soon as his attention was off me, I let out a sigh.
My boots were too tight and my wig too itchy. All the jewelry was making my neck sore. I was tired of playing Painted Wolf.
But looking out the window at the ocean and the sky, I refocused on the reasons why I’d boarded the plane. I lied to my parents because I needed to help Tunde. His life, his parents’ life, his village, his people: All were threatened. I had to do whatever I could and go wherever he needed me.
There was also the matter of Kiran’s intentions. He came across as brilliant and friendly, generous and driven. But I prided myself on reading people and I knew he was hiding something. It wasn’t a sixth sense; there wasn’t any telepathy involved. It was just my ability to read people, from the words they said to the subtlest body language cues and the slightest changes in tone.
Kiran had an ulterior motive. Something sketchy. I didn’t yet know what he was planning, but I was buzzing with eagerness to find out.
And stop it.
PART TWO
THE GAME
7. REX
03 DAYS, 05 HOURS, 21 MINUTES UNTIL ZERO HOUR
Ma and Papa were thrilled when I gave them the news.
The look of awe on their faces quickly morphed into grins of joy as I explained that I was one of the few invitees, that the trip was paid for (though even before I’d mentioned that, Papa said he’d find a way to pay), and that winning would mean access to projects I’d only dreamed of.
But the joy faded as a cold reality dawned on us all.
Ma brought it up first: What if immigration found out that my parents were illegal? I was honest and told them I didn’t know.
Papa sat us down at the table for a family meeting.
He was somber at first. “We’ve been through a very trying time, something no family should face. Regardless of the risks, I think you need to go to this competition, Rex. You did not choose to be here. Your mother and I chose this for you and we cannot keep you from your destiny out of fear. If Teo taught us anything, it is that we need to stand up and embrace every challenge. And we’re going to embrace this one.”
&n
bsp; Ma cried as she packed my bags. Papa beamed when they walked me to the check-in desk at the airport. He told me that he and Ma had stayed up most of the night bragging to each other. That made my heart hurt worse than anything.
Proud of their cheating son.
I gave them long hugs and told them I’d call every day.
Papa handed me a small box wrapped with ribbon.
“Your mom and I have been hanging on to it since … Well, we think he’d like you to have it now. Besides, it’s been beeping lately and we can’t seem to shut it off.”
“Beeping?”
I held the box to my ear and could hear a very faint but insistent tone.
Ma was crying. “Take care of yourself. Call as soon as you can.”
I promised them I would and walked backward through the crowded concourse, waving to them until they vanished within the sea of faces.
Then I pushed my way through security, ran to my gate, and got onto the plane only a few minutes before they made the final boarding announcement.
Once I’d settled into my seat, I opened the gift from my parents.
Inside the small box was a leather necklace with a USB flash drive hanging from it. I got a little teary-eyed seeing the USB drive. That’s probably the first time you’ve ever heard anyone say that. But it was Teo’s.
A 16 MB thumb drive he got from our parents for Christmas when he was three. He used it religiously even though it barely held anything.
It was like his good-luck charm. It was his digital rabbit’s foot.
I hadn’t seen the thing since he’d vanished, and, frankly, I’d forgotten about it. Seeing it again, holding that small rectangle of metal and plastic in my hand, overwhelmed me with emotion.
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