“Concentrate on Michael Lyons. Let Mom and the others help you. Please, Daddy, don’t try to do it all yourself. I want your promise.”
Charles laughed. “Like I could deny anything you ask. Very well, my dear, I will do as you ask.”
“Do you remember how you used to sleigh ride with me and Nik? Do you remember how beautiful the snow was when we’d start out? You used to say the snow was as pure as me and Nik. Of course, we didn’t know what that meant at the time. All we knew was you smiled when you said it and that made it wonderful. Now, this is what you have to do, Daddy. You shift into your neutral zone and you damn well kick ass and take names later. You got that?”
Charles choked on his own laughter. “I got it.”
“I gotta go. Mom’s coming. Love you, Daddy.”
“Dear God, how I love you, child.”
The secret door opened and Myra stepped into the room. She knew immediately that something had changed in her absence. Her smile lit up the room. “She came to you, didn’t she?”
Charles smiled from ear to ear. “Yes, and she called me Daddy. She said she always knew.”
Myra clapped her hands. “Isn’t it wonderful, Charles? Our daughter comes to us when things are the darkest. I’m so happy for us both. She talks to Nikki, too, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know that, but it’s right. They were so close, just the way sisters are supposed to be. We were a family, Myra.”
“Eat, Charles. I made that sandwich with love.”
“And a lot of lumps in the gravy.”
“Shush. I made it with love and for my daughter’s father.”
The Ladies of Pinewood were sitting at the kitchen table the following morning finishing up a sketchy breakfast when Charles entered the kitchen. He was freshly shaved, dressed in corduroy and a heavy wool sweater on top of a white shirt whose collar showed at the neck of the sweater. He looked like a British scholar with his glasses perched on the end of his nose. He greeted everyone with a smile, helped himself to a bagel, spread cream cheese on it and then accepted a cup of coffee from Alexis.
“I think we’re snowbound,” Isabelle said as she pulled aside the curtains on the kitchen window. “I suppose things could be worse.”
“Oh, yeah, how?” Kathryn asked, her tone combative. She hated being cooped up.
What she hated even more was the upcoming two-hour Spanish lesson Charles had insisted on. Annie, having lived in Spain for so many years, was teaching them Spanish, saying her orders from Charles were that they all had to become fluent in Spanish. Kathryn was doing badly, refusing to wrap her tongue around the alien-sounding words. The others tried to help her but she refused their help. Even Yoko was starting to speak the language well, a feat that boggled her mind.
“I have no interest in learning to speak Spanish,” Kathryn said. “I failed the subject in school. This time Charles is way off base and over the line at the same time. I refuse to attend one more class and I mean no offense to you, Annie.”
“None taken, dear. Humor me today and let’s see if we can’t make some progress. You’re fighting me, Kathryn, and you know it. Being stubborn isn’t helping. You’re a smart woman. You have an engineering degree and a master’s so that tells me you have the capacity to learn. And you will learn if you stop being so belligerent. Now, get off your ass, go into the dining room and open the goddamn book. I’ll be in in a few minutes.”
“Whoa,” Nikki said sotto voce as she scurried behind Kathryn into the dining room. “The lady is on a roll.”
Kathryn’s face flamed, but she was in the dining room with the book open in front of her. She wasn’t about to give up, though. “I thought we were here to work on Yoko’s mission, not learn Spanish. I thought going to Spain was all a big joke. I see now it’s not a joke. Are you all going to kick me out if I don’t learn the damn language?”
The Ladies of Pinewood started to vent, in general and then at one another. Finally, Alexis slammed her fist on the table.
“Will you just listen to us! What’s happening here? We’re like a bunch of snarling cats caught in a rainstorm. Is there something going on that we don’t know about? Something Charles isn’t sharing with us? I think so. If I’m right, it’s not fair.”
Nikki looked around at the angry faces, knowing her own face was just as angry. Still, someone had to be the voice of reason. “Listen to me. I’m on your side. I’m sure you all heard how I’m butchering up the language but Charles always has a reason for everything he’s asked us to do. We agreed early on that there would be things we wouldn’t like, things we didn’t want to do, but if Charles asked, we would do them. For the betterment of the sisterhood.
“Charles thinks we’re going to get caught at some point. He always looks ahead to the future. It’s called planning. Spain will be our getaway if that ever happens, is what I’m thinking. It’s the only thing that makes sense. What that means, Kathryn, is this: shut up, buckle down and do your best. We’ll help you.”
Kathryn suddenly burst into tears, hard sobs rocking her slim shoulders. The others looked on in horror. Kathryn Lucas crying. It was so unbelievable, the women could respond only with stunned silence. As they struggled to get their wits about them, Kathryn swiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her flannel shirt. A second later she was speaking fluent Spanish, whole paragraphs, entire sentences, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“There, are you all satisfied? Why did you make me do that? It was all I had left.” At the women’s stunned expressions she said, “My husband taught me Spanish. We learned it on the road. He used to whisper all those soft love words to me that no one else could understand. It was a private thing, something I didn’t want to share with anyone, not even you, as much as I love all of you. You all know everything else there is to know about me and my husband because I told you. This was just…it was…mine. Everything else is gone. At night when I can’t sleep, I lie there and remember, often saying the words out loud. Damn it, do you understand?” Kathryn looked at the shocked faces staring at her. “Okay, do you want me to teach this fucking class? I will. Maybe Annie can find something better to do than hassle me. Now, let’s get to those verbs.”
The Ladies of Pinewood fell to it with a vengeance.
In the kitchen, Annie and Myra smiled at one another. “How did you know, Annie?” Myra whispered.
“Because she worked too hard pretending to be stupid. Kathryn is far from stupid, as you well know. I wasn’t sure but I thought it was something like that. I became convinced after I noticed that when I said endearing words her eyes would flood with tears. Those women in the dining room are a remarkable group, Myra. Absolutely remarkable.”
Myra fiddled with her pearls. “I know. Every night I pray that nothing goes awry. Oh, Annie, listen to this. Barbara spoke to Charles early this morning. It was so wonderful. She called him Daddy. I thought my heart was going to burst wide-open.”
The two women hugged and smiled through their tears.
“Down to business,” Annie said. “Tell me what you think of this idea, Myra. I couldn’t sleep last night so my mind was racing. I fund a charity, along with a lot of other people, that benefits children. The foundation does wonderful work for children with disfigurements, sick children and homeless children. Not just here in America but worldwide. I thought, since I’m the one who started up the foundation years ago, that I would call Mr. Lyons’s agent and ask him if he would ask Mr. Lyons to chair a special event with me. I’ll tell him all he has to do is lend his name to the effort, have some pictures taken several days before the Academy Awards ceremony, which will be our way to getting into his house on his immediate return. I checked our donor list early this morning and the man has contributed robust sums of money to the foundation over the years. What do you think?”
“I think it’s a splendid idea. Do you know the name of the agent?”
“I do and I even have his home phone number. It’s still early in California so we’ll have to wait at least an hour
before I call him.”
“What if he says he’s too booked up or he has no time until after the awards?”
Annie quirked an eyebrow at Myra, as if to say, C’mon, get real. “I think I can be persuasive. I can always throw in a prize like a Range Rover but Lyons won’t take it. He wants his public to believe he’s above accepting material things like that for helping a worthy cause.”
“Should we tell Charles?”
“We could but I think we should just do it. We can tell him later if we manage to nail it all down today. It certainly won’t interfere with anything he’s planning. Actually, if you think about it, it can only help. I called several of the people at the foundation when I got up this morning to alert them to all this. They’re very excited. I also wanted them to be aware that Lyons’s agent might be calling to verify the situation.”
“Annie, you fit right in. You’re okay with all this, then?”
“My dear, I am more than okay with all this. The best thing that ever happened to me was the day you came to the mountain and smashed my television set. There I was, sitting on my mountain, day after day, just existing after the death of my entire family. For ten long years I sat there refusing to deal with life. You came back into my life, told me you loved me, begged me to let you help me, and then you threatened to kill me if I didn’t come back to life. I resented your intrusion into my life for all of five minutes. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Myra. I think I was at the point where I was ready to jump off that damn mountain on my own. And then, there you were, right in my face, defying me. I’m so glad you had the guts to stand up to me. I haven’t looked back, not even once.”
“Spoken like a true sister.”
Annie grinned before her clenched fist shot high in the air.
Chapter 12
Michael Lyons could barely control his excitement as his driver brought the car to a full stop. This was it, the moment. His adrenaline at an all-time high, Lyons stepped out of the car and walked up to the garish-looking building with equally garish lighting where a bevy of young women would be paraded before him within minutes of his arrival. Flesh for sale. He’d attended horse auctions that operated the same way.
Lyons still managed to look like the movie star he was. Even though he was dressed down in khakis, deck shoes and baseball cap. Not that anyone knew his profession; he’d gone to extreme lengths to cover his tracks. His scouting trips—that’s how he thought of his trips to Asia—were for sinful pleasure even though the words were never spoken aloud. His nerves were twanging all through his body. It was always like this, the wild anticipation, the adrenaline rush of watching the line of young women. All he had to do was point a finger, nod, and the girl would step to the side. As always, he chose three girls for his personal use; and the other six or seven of his choosing were for his clients. The next step was to negotiate with the fathers of the girls for hard cold cash. He was always amazed at how willingly the parent parted with his child. Goods for sale. It was that simple.
The small group of people seated in the back of the room were silent as they waited for the American to step forward to inspect his purchases at closer range. He always smiled and offered a token gift, usually a gold bracelet, which eventually found its way back to him when the purchase was put out on the circuit. He had tons of gold bracelets. He touched the girls’ glossy black hair, the porcelain-like skin of their cheeks. He liked the demure look of the young girls. He patted down the girls, satisfied that their breasts were lemon size, just the way he liked them. He looked down at each of them from his six-foot-three height, knowing he was intimidating, and asked the one question that would finalize the sale. He spoke in fluent Japanese. “Are you a virgin?” The shiny black heads always bobbed up and down, at which point Lyons turned to the back of the room where the father stood to confirm that he was selling a virgin and that Lyons was buying a virgin.
Lyons walked down the line handing out the gold bracelets. When he was satisfied, he stepped down off the crude stage and walked to the back of the room. He whipped out a wad of American dollars, paid for his purchases, left the building and didn’t look back. His job here was done. Others in his organization would take over now and arrange for the women to be smuggled to the United States.
He could hardly wait. His clients would be ecstatic with his choices. Now, though, he needed to get away from this foul-smelling place and back to his hotel, where he could take a shower and wait for the woman who would stay with him for the rest of the night. A professional who knew the ways to please a man.
Lyons’s mind raced as the car barreled through the dark Tokyo night. This was one of his most productive trips to date. He’d trolled for young women since his arrival, going to a different place each night, like the one he’d just left. He’d bought twenty-seven women. Enough to keep his clients happy for the next few months. He’d paid a thousand dollars a head and would turn around and sell the women to his clients for a hundred times that amount.
Just like a horse auction. Prize flesh on the hoof.
Lyons closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift to his organization and the money he flipped around the world with the press of a button. What was he going to do with all the money he had squirreled away in off-shore accounts? He already owned everything worth owning. This was the part that always bothered him. What to do with the vast sums of money. He knew where these thoughts would eventually take him: to the child he’d fathered with Suki Naoki. He tried not to think of her and for the most part was successful, but when he came here to her mother’s country she would invade his thoughts. Maybe he should think about making a will and trying to find the young woman. Maybe. Maybe she was dead. The thought didn’t really bother him one way or the other.
The worn-out women who had befriended Suki had spirited the child away. What had she been told? Obviously nothing of importance or she would have made an appearance somewhere along the way. She must not be interested in his wealth or his celebrity. He wondered why that was. She had to be dead, nothing else made sense.
Screw it all. Now he was in a black mood. The evening’s activities that he had looked forward to were now out of the question. He’d shower, have a late dinner and sleep. Tomorrow morning, with nothing on his agenda other than lounging in the hotel, his time would be free to do whatever he wanted to do. It would be a good time to make his way to the countryside to visit Suki’s place of birth. Yes, yes, that’s what he would do. Maybe then he could stop thinking about the child he’d fathered and knew nothing about.
Lyons dozed then and didn’t wake until the car stopped at his hotel. Once in his room he made several phone calls cancelling his evening’s entertainment, and retrieved his messages, none of which was important. The only call he returned was to his agent. He didn’t give a second thought to saying yes to Countess de Silva’s request. Of course he would lend his name to her project, of course he would donate handsomely to her project and of course he would pose for pictures. “It’s all about image, you know that,” he said to Lyle before he ended the call.
Twenty minutes later, Michael Lyons was sound asleep on 1,200-thread-count sheets.
Lyons was dressed in the same attire as the day before—khakis, Docksiders and baseball cap. Today the T-shirt he wore said, SAVE THE EARTH. As he stepped out of the car he couldn’t help but wonder if the old couple would remember him. Hell, coming here was a spur-of-the-moment thing. The people he was involved with said it wasn’t a good idea, but he had told them to shut up. He called the shots, something they needed to remember. He supposed the parents could be dead but he doubted it. Japanese people for some reason lived long lives.
He felt nervous and wasn’t sure why. Tingling with anticipation was not the same as being nervous. No, he was nervous, his hands clammy. His lips felt dry, his tongue thick. His hand was clenched to knock on the door when he thought better of the idea. He turned to walk away, only to stop and go back. He wasted no time and knocked. He heard a weak-sounding voice tel
ling him to enter. He did.
The room reeked of opium and a sour smell he couldn’t quite define. Two wizened creatures sat on piles of cushions, their eyes bright and curious at his intrusion into their lives. When he’d seen the old man thirty-some years ago, he’d been whippet thin. Now he just looked emaciated. The woman could have passed for a Halloween witch. How could these two have given birth to such exquisite daughters?
Lyons spoke a greeting in Japanese and then sat down cross-legged in front of the old couple. He looked for some sign of recognition but there was none. He introduced himself. The old couple simply stared and then whispered among themselves.
The crone said, “My granddaughter said you were dead.”
Lyons thought his heart would explode right out of his chest. He had to say something they would believe. He then muttered something about modern American medicine that brought the dead back to life. They seemed satisfied.
“When was my daughter here?” Lyons asked.
The old man picked up his pipe and puffed. He made no comment. The old woman held up three fingers. Days? Weeks? Months? What did it matter? He asked where she lived.
“The land of milk and honey where money grows on trees,” was the response. He mouthed the word “California,” and the old woman nodded before she picked up her pipe. Her rotted stumps of teeth clamped tight on the pipe while her hands rummaged under the cushions for something. Finally she had what she wanted in her hand and held it out. Lyons reached for it. Suki. Beautiful little Suki. He felt something stir in him.
“Where did you get this?”
“My granddaughter.”
“Is she coming back here? Do you know where I can find her?”
The old man made a sound in his throat, an ugly sound. Lyons inched backward when the old woman started to laugh.
“She is looking for you.” She cackled again.
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