“You are in a penthouse suite in Las Vegas.”
Las Vegas? Why? How?
“What am I doing here?”
“You are my guest.”
This whole thing made no sense. It was almost like she was that girl who dropped down into a rabbit hole. Alice. But Lily wanted nothing to do with this place.
“I want to leave.”
“But you just arrived.”
“You said I was a guest.”
“And you are. If there’s anything you want to eat or drink, a special dumbwaiter will bring it to you. The menu selections are virtually unlimited. And if there’s any particular music you want to hear, I will arrange for it to be played.”
“When can I leave?”
“We’ll talk about that after you’ve settled in for a few days.”
Lily trusted her vibe a hell of a lot more than his less-than-reassuring words. “I’ll scream.”
“I’d like that,” he said.
It was his expectant smile that dissuaded her from screaming. But he did not allow the silence to last and suddenly offered his own scream. Lily started, covering her own mouth as if hoping to muffle his shriek. His demonstration clearly pleased him.
“What exceptional acoustics,” he said. “This suite was designed to my specifications. It’s been soundproofed so that the noise doesn’t carry far. The penthouse is subdivided, so I’m your only neighbor. And beneath us is my special staff. There is no one to hear your cries. It’s sort of like the Zen koan of a tree falling in a forest. If no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”
He looked at her. “Do you make a sound if no one can hear you?”
Lily found herself trembling.
“Or are you visible if no one can see you?” He swept his hand, gesturing to the room’s expanse. “All the windows in this suite have been treated so that you can see out, but no one can see in. Like those special windows in interrogation rooms where the police can observe the suspects being questioned without being seen.”
He went back to sipping his champagne.
“I don’t understand why I’m here,” Lily said.
“That is the beginning of the road to understanding, Nataliya.”
Lily wondered if she’d misheard. Had he mistakenly called her Nataliya? It was a name she had heard recently. But where?
“Your situation can potentially provide you a path to enlightenment. There was once a man being pursued by a tiger. His only hope for escape was to leap into a precipice, and as he fell the man was able to grab at a vine. Above, the tiger stared down at him. The man looked below and saw another tiger waiting below. As he hung on to the vine, a mouse began chewing at his only support. And that was when the man saw a plump wild strawberry growing next to the vine. Holding on to the vine with one hand, he was able to pluck the strawberry and eat it. How delicious it tasted.”
He pantomimed the eating of the strawberry. “The man was able to live in the moment. Do you understand?”
Lily wanted to tell him to shove his strawberry up his ass, but she held her tongue, not wanting to provoke him. She got to her feet and took a few steps toward the window before abruptly coming to a stop. The room was high up. Real high. Heights scared her; the sudden onset of vertigo made her feel unsteady and she retreated.
“No need to be afraid. The windows here are more than secure.”
He put down his flute of champagne and smiled. Then he made sure Lily was watching him, and ran as fast as he could at the glass.
Lily couldn’t help herself. “No!” she screamed.
The man hit the glass with his shoulder, ramming into it. The impact could be heard throughout the room, but even louder was the man’s laughter. He bounced from the window, much like a basketball off a backboard, landing on his feet near to the point from where he had taken off.
“That never gets old. Never.” He looked at her. “Again?”
Lily shook her head.
“Do you want to try?”
This time she shook her head even more vigorously.
“Wait until the full moon arrives. There is no better time to window dance. That’s when I turn the music up high. That’s when I howl to my heart’s content. That is when all is revealed.”
The man was now leaning his back against the window. Directly behind him was only space, and the abyss.
As much as Lily didn’t want to know, she had to ask the question. “How high up are we?”
“Such a good question, but the answer is not so easy.”
He turned around, bringing his face up next to the window and looking down. “Two floors below us is the Peak of Heaven Restaurant and Lounge. If you were to ride an elevator up to it, you would push the button for the fifty-eighth floor. But that doesn’t tell the full story. You see, even though everyone likes to say the restaurant is on the fifty-eighth floor, and in TV spots and magazines it’s always described as such, that’s not true. It is one of the secrets of the Yin-Yang. That’s where we are, by the way. You’ve heard of it?”
She shook her head.
“It’s also known as the Y, or the Double Y, although its official name is the Yin-Yang Casino and Convention Center. At the Y, things are not always as they seem. For example, if you were to try and take an elevator to the fourth floor, you would discover there is no button with the number four, just as there is no fourteen, or twenty-four, or thirty-four. In fact, the number four does not exist in this building. If you look at the bank of floors listed on the elevator panel, you will see the next number after thirty-nine is fifty. Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tetraphobia.”
It wasn’t a word Lily had ever heard of, but the perv seemed to think it was important. He kept staring at her eyes. It was almost like he was trying to see beneath their surface.
“Repeat it for me.”
Shit, she thought. She couldn’t remember the word. “What was it again?”
“Tetraphobia.”
“Tetraphobia,” she said.
“Perfect. It means the fear of the number four.”
“People are afraid of the number four?”
“Terrified. That sounds silly, doesn’t it? And yet many Asian people are tetraphobic. The number four is bad luck for them. It’s like our superstition over the number thirteen, but much worse. For the Chinese and Koreans and Japanese, the number four is associated with death. To assuage those fears, this building was structured without the number four on any of the floors.”
It sounded batshit crazy to Lily, but no crazier than what she was experiencing.
“In this place we have tried to create a balance between the seen world and the unseen. Are you familiar with the notion of yin and yang?”
Lily shook her head.
“Think of dualism. Some people try to explain it in extremes, like negative and positive, but I see it as something that is more complementary than oppositional. We need light, and we need dark. The north needs a south, the east needs a west. What is fire without water, or winter without summer? For me, the cycle of the moon is an expression of the yin and the yang. From darkness, we proceed into the light, and what is invisible becomes visible.
“We need disorder as much as order, although it is in our nature to try and deny this. The yin and the yang do not define what is good and what is bad. It is a philosophy of understanding the balance between them and the swaying dance that is the universe.”
Lily couldn’t follow the man’s babbling, but something in his words made her remember an image. “Black-and-white fish,” she said.
“That’s right. Yin and yang are often portrayed in black-and-white tai chi fish. We have incorporated that very symbol into the marketing of this property. Every night the fish illuminate the hotel’s walls. You can even see them swim.”
He stared into Lily’s eyes. This predator made her afraid, and she sought to divert him.
“Tetraphobia,” she said, remembering the word central to his
lecturing.
“Yes! Fear of the number four.”
His eyes focused, and he seemed to remember himself. “Let me offer a belated introduction. I am Max Miller. Feel free to call me Max, although most call me MM, the owner of the YY. They find that ironic. The initials of my name tell a story in themselves. Each is the thirteenth letter in the alphabet. They fall directly in the middle of twenty-six letters. I have brought you here as my honored guest, Lily.”
He did know her name. Lily would have preferred he didn’t. “Honored?” she asked.
“In a yin-yang kind of way,” he said, pointing one of his thumbnails at her. “You must remember what I said about duality, and the balancing act therein.”
His smile faded. “And given those parameters, I would say welcome to heaven, welcome to hell.”
XXVI
To Deke, it almost felt like the Sword of Damocles was hanging over him, with only a single thread sparing him from being impaled. Even though he and Gina and the Welcome Mat team had continued with their lawsuit preparations, everyone was waiting for the other shoe to drop. There was little question that Judge Irwin was going to come down hard on Deke, but no one could predict the severity of his response, or when it would happen.
Tired of the wait, and knowing he needed a pressure release, Deke was more than looking forward to his favorite stress-buster. Once a month he and his good friend Robin Clark went out spearfishing.
“All set?”
Robin finished stowing the gear and saluted Deke in the wheel-house. “Aye, aye, captain.”
The irony was that in real life Robin was a commercial airline pilot whom others called captain. Out on the sea, though, Deke took the helm. For almost twenty years, the two men had been diving together.
Dawn was still a few minutes off as Deke piloted their dive boat out from the gray harbor. From experience, Deke knew it was best to get to their dive spot early. Their destination was fifteen miles offshore, a spot where a Navy transport boat had been sunk in ninety feet of water more than a quarter of a century earlier. Wreck diving was popular in Florida, with the artificial reefs attracting clusters of fish.
Once clear of the harbor, Deke put the twin Yamaha 250 horsepower outboard engines to good use. In the calm waters, the thirty-two-foot dive boat sailed along at a fast clip.
Over the loud motors, Robin shouted, “Wonder if we’ll see your colleague today.”
Deke knew where Robin was going and didn’t bite. That didn’t stop his friend from saying, “At least you don’t have to worry about him biting you, what with professional courtesy and all.”
It was the punch line to one of the oldest lawyer jokes in the world; what surprised Deke was that it had taken Robin this long to use it. The “colleague” his friend was referencing was a twelve-foot bull shark the two men had encountered during several of their dives. The much more common apex predators were the barracuda. There were always plenty of them hanging around in the vicinity of the old sunken boat. The presence of the bull shark was always good to get their adrenaline going.
“Nowadays it’s debatable whether it’s lawyers or sharks who have a worse PR problem,” Deke yelled.
Healthy oceans needed sharks as an essential part of the ecosystem, Deke knew, just as healthy societies needed lawyers defending the rule of law. He was always dumbfounded at how most people never understood that connection until they, or a loved one, desperately needed to retain a lawyer for one dire circumstance or another.
“Maybe lawyers should do the TV equivalent of Shark Week. That programming has changed a lot of negative opinions toward sharks.”
“Couldn’t hurt, and maybe it could dispel some of the legal stereotypes that plague the profession. But I bet even that wouldn’t stop people from calling us and asking to be represented by the biggest and meanest shark in our firm. That, or pit bull.”
Deke knew Robin was just kidding with his shark reference, but the lawyer stereotypes still grew old. The powerful forces that lawyers opposed had done a good job painting the legal profession as rapacious and predatory. Having worked in the trenches for as long as he had, Deke knew just how influential and deep-rooted the opposition was. There were plenty of forces allied against the rule of law. If lawyers were to fail, autocracy and corporatocracy would win the day. There were some days when Deke thought that already seemed to have happened.
Over the noise of the motors, Robin shouted, “I suppose it’s better to be feared than loved.”
Deke offered a noncommittal nod. For this morning at least, he didn’t want to think about being a lawyer. His resolve lasted about ten seconds, until he started dwelling on the drowned woman. Carol Morris was moving mountains trying to get a positive ID on the woman they believed was Karina Boyko.
As the sun began to rise, the waters seemed to transform in color, going from a dark navy blue to a bluish green. With the calm seas around them, Deke knew that by the time they arrived at their dive spot, the visibility would be upward of sixty feet. As the shoreline grew farther and farther behind them, Deke experienced the kind of calm he was never able to obtain on land. It was his form of detox, Deke liked to tell others, with the worries and pressures lifting from him.
The tranquil waters allowed them to make good time. As they approached the wreck site, they observed that they were the sole boat for as far as the eye could see. The anchor was dropped, and final preparations for the dive were made. Deke and Robin knew they shouldn’t be diving without a third person staying in the boat, a role usually filled by Deke’s son Andy when he was available. Such a precaution made sense in the event anything went wrong during the dive, but today they were violating that fundamental rule. Their concession to safety would be to strictly limit their dive times.
Both men were wearing a spring suit, or what Robin referred to as a “shorty.” The neoprene wet suits didn’t completely cover their arms or legs, allowing for easier movement. The spring suits were perfect for the Gulf’s warm waters. It was only after they descended below sixty feet that the waters started getting nippy. For today’s dive they had decided they wouldn’t be swimming in the interior of the old navy boat, but instead would be circling around its exterior, much in the manner of the prey they were hunting. Their routine was to do two dives, each twenty minutes in duration. Depending on the conditions, they sometimes traveled a short distance away to another favored spot for their second dive. That dive was for sightseeing; the first dive was for bragging rights.
“I’ll remind you that in our fish-off contest I’m ahead four to three,” Robin said.
Although in his mid-fifties, Robin’s competitive juices still ran deep. His idea of recreation was doing triathlons. Every time the men went out to dive, each of them vied to land the biggest fish. This was their eighth excursion of the year.
“We’ll be tied after today. And speaking of reminding, let’s not forget that last year you looked stunning in orange and blue.”
Robin was a graduate of Florida State; Deke of the University of Florida. On the big game day in November, the loser in their annual fish tallies had to wear the victor’s school colors.
“I can’t wait for your walk of shame this year. You can help cheer the Seminoles on to victory.”
Deke waved a dismissive hand, then both men turned to checking their equipment. As many times as Deke had been diving, he always felt that same thrill of excitement just prior to entering the water. On the surface the diving gear felt cumbersome, but once underwater Deke was in his element. They clipped their lines to the two fish buoys and tossed them into the water. Each man offered the other a thumbs-up. Robin went into the water first, and Deke followed.
Before starting his descent, Deke took his bearings. He made a point of taking measured breaths, letting his body adjust to his surroundings. For Deke, it always felt like a Wizard of Oz moment, going from black-and-white Kansas to the striking colors and unusual sights of Oz. Still, you had to be mindful of any potential witches.
Deke che
cked his watch, then started down.
Their prey was amberjack. The state of Florida had a bag limit of one; for Deke and Robin, that meant making the best of their opportunity. State law mandated that the fish be at least thirty-four inches long, but to win bragging rights for the day would likely require taking a fish that weighed at least fifteen pounds. The guessing game was to take your shot early, or wait for just the right fish to come along.
Now that they were drawing near to the sunken boat, they could see there was no shortage of potential prey. Both divers stayed within sight of one another, but not so close as to impede the other’s hunt. Deke’s attention was drawn by a familiar flash of silver blue and the telltale brown band over the eye of the approaching fish. The amberjack drew closer, coming into range. Deke liked to take the shot from no more than five feet away. He sighted with the tip of his spear shaft, but then lowered his speargun. The amberjack was certainly legal in size, but he knew it wouldn’t tip the scales at much more than ten pounds.
Deke was a gambler; he was willing to wait to try and get the bigger fish. Sometimes his strategy paid off; sometimes, by not taking the early opportunity, he ended up being skunked. Robin always thought it was better to take the sure shot, and five minutes into the dive he landed his fish. From a distance, Deke could see it was good-sized, a minimum fifteen pounds. He watched Robin quickly gather in the amberjack and put it into the fish bag that was attached to the float line. It was important to get your fish squared away as soon as possible; leaving a floundering or bleeding fish in the water was sure to attract predators. Nearby, watching with interest, Deke sighted half a dozen barracuda, some as big as four feet. They weren’t a threat to their person, even if their big, bad teeth suggested otherwise, but they would happily snag any unsecured fish.
The clock, Deke knew, was running. Instead of trying to hunt down the fish, Deke settled on the bottom, positioning himself near the wreck. There wasn’t a game trail per se, but the fish were creatures of habit that liked to move along familiar routes.
Deke didn’t move; air bubbles were his only giveaway. Amberjack came his way. Some gave him a wide berth, others came close enough for Deke to get a clean shot, but they were clearly undersized compared to Robin’s catch.
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