Victor sighed and took his Palm back from Arun. “I recognized the leader of the group—he’s Jin’s right-hand man.”
“Jin?” Lingyi and I said at the same time.
“Yes. Goes by Da Ge, but he’s no big brother anyone would want to have,” Vic said. “He heads Jin’s security team but is not above kicking the shit out of someone, or having one of his goons knife and kill a guy in a dark alley. Hell, I’ve heard of him being responsible for assassinations in bright daylight in a crowd—but no one can actually pin it on him. Jin’s power and wealth protect him.”
“Is he our ‘Mr. Wu,’ then?” Arun asked in a quiet voice, but I didn’t miss the steel beneath. The anonymous Wu, who murdered his mother.
Tension in the suite coalesced as sharply as if a gunshot had gone off.
Vic swiped a hand over his face. “It’s impossible to know. Jin’s got a lot of people working for him. I can see him going outside of his legitimately employed men to . . . to”—Victor cracked his knuckles—“I’m sorry, Arun. I don’t know.”
Arun nodded but didn’t meet our eyes, instead staring at his black workman boots, hands clenched together in front of him.
“So Jin is onto us?” Lingyi said. “That’s why you want to abort?”
“Da Ge knows me now. He’s sharp and spends much of his time near Jin,” Victor said. “There’s no way I could go in as the you. He’d recognize me and dig deeper into my background than we want. I gave him the false name I used when I checked in remotely. I had no choice.”
Rockaroke prided itself on the privacy of its clients. As long as you were able to gain access to the elevators with a code, you were a valued guest. Victor had checked in online without ever talking to a Rockaroke attendant in person, remaining anonymous. It didn’t matter as long as you could afford the suite.
“But I didn’t expect a face-to-face interrogation,” Victor continued. “If I’m a rich you, Jin’s people would have known about me already.”
Arun cursed. “And no one else can take your place. I’m too well known at the university—”
“And you’re Dr. Nataraj’s son,” Lingyi finished. “Everyone knows me as the daughter of the infamous hacker, never mind my dad’s wide network when he headed Fortune Securities. And Iris—well, Iris would just as likely kill everyone first.”
Iris stretched her arms languidly overhead. “It always does seem to be the easier option.”
I thought she was joking—with Iris, you never knew—but none of us laughed. Vic was right: His cover was blown before it even started. And no one else could go in. . . .
“What about me?” I said.
Lingyi gave me a look so sharp it’d cut if she could will it. “No.”
“Why not?” I looked her square in the eyes, challenging. We’d known each other since I was thirteen—Lingyi had befriended me in a used-book store soon after my mom had died. She was the oldest one in our group at nineteen. Lingyi was the boss. Didn’t mean I never disagreed with her or always did what she told me, though.
“They were going around with an image of you, Zhou,” she said.
“A very bad image—”
“I recognized you well enough.”
“It’s because you know me,” I replied. “You love this face too much.”
Iris and Victor snorted at the same time, then stared at each other suspiciously.
“Victor said that Da Ge is no fool,” Lingyi said. “He’d make the connection—”
“So we’re just going to give up?” I jumped up from my chair and paced in front of my friends. “After I risked my life kidnapping that you girl? What are we going to do with all that money? Return it?” I spat.
“Maybe we could donate it anonymously—”
I cut Lingyi off with a sharp laugh. “Donate it? Will that change how bad things are in Taiwan?” I turned to Arun. “Would a donation be enough for what your mom wanted to do—the changes she wanted to make?”
He reared back as if I’d slapped him. I didn’t care, fueled by a frustration and anger that felt as if they could burn a hole through my chest.
“That’s not fair, Zhou,” Lingyi said.
“There is no ‘fair’ in this scenario.” I fell back into my seat because Iris had begun flexing her fingers, danger lurking behind her dark eyes as she tracked me. I didn’t think I could win against her in a fight. Actually, I knew I didn’t have a chance. Any advantage in strength I might have she made up for in agility and speed. Iris always sided with Lingyi. “I refuse to be a bystander anymore. It’s bullshit.”
We simmered in silence for a long moment. The silver barbot floated between us, offering drinks, as if trying to placate a tough crowd.
Then Arun said, “No.”
We stopped sipping our alcohol.
“A donation isn’t enough,” Arun said. “My mom tried legislation, and look where that got her—murdered.” He drew a long, shaking breath, his fierce orange spikes did nothing to make him appear less vulnerable. “We should stick with the plan. Target Jin.”
“All Da Ge needs to do is put Zhou’s face through a recognition system, match it with the image he has, and it’s endgame,” Lingyi said.
We all knew that “endgame” wouldn’t mean a botched operation—it would mean me, dead. The thought of death didn’t scare me. I’d glimpsed it enough times in my life. In my mind, the reward of shutting Jin down was worth every risk.
“I’ve got the best face recognition program on the market,” Vic said. “Let’s see, then.”
He stood and passed his Palm over my face, bathing me in green light for a few seconds, then proceeded to type some commands into it. We waited. The suite felt too hot all of a sudden, and my hands dampened with sweat.
“Nothing.” Vic grinned after a minute. “The program couldn’t confirm a match between the rendered image they had and the scan I took of Zhou’s face.”
“So I’m in,” I said triumphantly.
“You do know what this means, though, right?” Arun asked. We all stared at him expectantly. “Jin’s the one who sent those thugs after you,” he said. “Which means he’s somehow involved in this. He’s the one who wants you dead. Maybe he’s connected you with”—he swallowed, looking pained—“my mom.”
“Shit,” Victor murmured. “It’s like sending poor Zhou into the lion’s den.”
I had been so distracted by the men showing up, my escapade out on the ledge, and Dr. Nataraj’s death—I had failed to make the most obvious connection.
“It’s too huge a risk, Zhou.” Lingyi appeared physically ill, curled forward as if her stomach ached. “If something happened to you . . .”
Iris squeezed Lingyi’s shoulder, her narrowed eyes still focused on me.
Lingyi had been an older sister to me for almost five years now, making sure I had somewhere safe to sleep every night, that I wasn’t starving. She did this with everyone in our group—looked after us—even Victor, who I suspected was still secretly in love with her. I know she had been with Arun every day after Dr. Nataraj’s death, helping with the necessary paperwork, making certain he was eating, that his kitchen was stocked with food.