Cheng stood as well. “Mr. Zhang will be leaving us. I’m sorry for his rude behavior. Mr. Zhang, send in Mr. Zhu.” He indicated the door with a jerk of his chin and it said something for the fear his people felt, even those closest to him, that Zhang hastened toward the door.
“Please sit, Miss Hightower. I’m used to people trying to spy on us, stealing what we’ve worked hard to develop. Just a few weeks ago, a spy escaped with valuable information. It set us back months.”
Zara kept her heart from accelerating, but it was difficult after hearing the name Bolan Zhu twice. She knew all about him. He was Cheng’s right hand and probably far more feared even than Cheng. He was the interrogator sent in for difficult subjects. Most people never got near him. He was the man Cheng trusted more than any other. Little was known about Zhu, until he served with the army.
Zara decided it was better to appear to cooperate than have Bolan Zhu threaten her. It was one thing for Zhang to do so, but Zhu was a different matter altogether. She sank into the chair and gave a pretty little moue with her lips. “I’m sorry. I think I’m being temperamental because I’m tired and your Mr. Zhang wasn’t the most welcoming.”
Cheng looked up as Zhu walked through the door. Bolan Zhu was tall and wore a very expensive suit in a dark charcoal. He gave Zara a small smile as Cheng introduced them.
“So nice to finally have you here, Miss Hightower,” Zhu greeted. “Cheng has spoken of you often. He is a great admirer of your work.”
Clearly the man was as charming as he was lethal. Her information on him included the fact that he enjoyed traveling abroad and when he did, he visited clubs nightly. He was considered quite a ladies’ man, and Zara could see why. He was extremely handsome. She gave him a smile and sat a little straighter.
“That’s nice of you to say,” she murmured, lowering her lashes. She felt rather than saw the two men exchange a look. They bought that she was a little affected by Zhu’s good looks and charming manner.
“Miss Hightower was just going to tell me where she disappears to when she isn’t at the university, which is often,” Cheng said.
“It’s a little embarrassing,” Zara said, acting reluctant. She snuck a quick glance at Zhu as if talking in front of him was the reason she would be embarrassed. “I work very hard for long periods of time without sleeping or sometimes eating. I realize it isn’t the best thing for my health, but I just can’t remember to eat or sleep when I’m on to something. I’ve been known to wake up in the middle of the night and use my walls for paper to write on. I often take breaks, sometimes just a couple of weeks, but often longer, to regroup. I go on retreats where I don’t have access to a computer, phone or television. I have to shut out the world entirely. Sometimes I sleep for twenty-four hours straight.”
“That makes sense.” Zhu jumped to her defense. “Cheng told me you were a child prodigy, one of the leading AI experts at a very young age.”
“It’s such a fascinating idea,” Zara said, pouring enthusiasm into her voice, hoping neither man would realize she hadn’t answered the question of where she’d been. Only what she’d been doing. “Artificial intelligence is a growing field, covering so many things that could be useful. People have the mistaken idea that it is just robotics—although that alone is amazing and forward-thinking—but it’s so much more.”
“We spend some time and energy on robotics here,” Cheng said. “You think that’s a waste of time?”
“No, of course not. It’s just that artificial intelligence can be used in a much broader scope. I don’t want any student to get bogged down thinking in a box, just thinking one thing. Already we have small examples of machines learning. They can help so many people. On a small scale, people stuck in houses can just ask their devices to order food or supplies for them. If an elderly man or woman falls in their home they can call out to their device and have it call for an ambulance or family member. The possibilities are limitless.”
There was genuine enthusiasm in her voice. She sat up straight and her face lit up. Her eyes did. She was very aware of the changes in her and allowed them. She wanted Cheng and Zhu to see she was exactly what she said she was, a very young professor who believed in exploring artificial intelligence.
“Why did you choose a subfield like machine learning versus something else, like robotics?” Cheng asked.
“I like machines. I like programming, not that I do much of that anymore myself, but numbers speak to me. Machines are logical.” Her long lashes fluttered and she made a small face. “I get carried away when I talk about my work. Please forgive me. What else do you need to know before I give my talk to your people, Mr. Cheng? I don’t want to take up any more of your time than I need to. It’s getting late, and I’m certain your employees need to get home.”
“They would wait all night to get a chance to ask questions of you, Miss Hightower,” Cheng said. “Your briefcase has few papers we can understand. Your code appears to be unbreakable. Did you devise it yourself?”
She burst out laughing. “The few papers you can understand are used for my talk. The others are sequences of numbers I put together when I’m working out a problem in my head. It soothes me.”
“Hasn’t anyone ever stopped you, believing it’s a code of some kind?”
She shrugged. “It’s happened, but eventually they realize it’s nothing but me doing something repetitious that helps me think.”
Cheng’s brows came together and he regarded her with skepticism. “Didn’t you have trouble coming into the country with those papers?”
“I only had a couple of papers with numbers at the time and someone assured those holding me that it’s no code but random sets of numbers repeated over and over on several pages. That ensures everyone thinks I’m a little eccentric, which I probably am.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Cheng said, suspicion in his voice.
“It does if she’s OCD,” Zhu pointed out, looking straight at Zara. “Those random numbers are repeated in sets of three.”
Zara didn’t change expression and she kept her heart rate exactly the same—a nice steady rhythm as if she didn’t have a care in the world. As if she wasn’t sitting in a room with two deadly vipers ready to strike at any moment. Zhu’s answer meant he’d looked at those papers.
A timid knock announced the arrival of the tea. It was Zhu who physically got up and opened the door. Zara found that fascinating. He didn’t call out to the woman carrying in the tray; he got up and took the tray from her. She never entered Cheng’s office and Zhu lowered himself to carrying the tea tray. He set it on the small table in front of Zara. She knew she was really in trouble. Zhu didn’t care what others thought of him. He didn’t stand on protocol or ego. That made him very, very dangerous.
Was Cheng so paranoid that he didn’t allow anyone into his office? Probably, she decided. “I don’t mind pouring the tea for everyone,” she said, pitching her voice low, almost submissive. “I don’t know if that would be offensive to either of you. I’m unsure of the custom when there is no other woman in the room.”
She knew Cheng would never pour her tea. He’d already stepped far back as if that would save him from having to do such a menial task in front of her.
Zhu had no such problem. He simply smiled at her and shook his head. “We are very modern here, Miss Hightower. I have no problems pouring you tea.” He suited actions to words, picking up the little pot and pouring the liquid into three cups.