I laughed, even as my neck grew hot. “I mean, to be able to get a behind-the-scenes tour.”
We walked past a global display of suits sold worldwide, from Los Angeles to London, Mexico City to Cairo. I paused, as a large image on the wall had caught my eye: a younger-looking Jin shaking hands with an Asian man who looked oddly familiar to me. As did the woman standing beside him, wearing a crisp, light blue dress. The caption read: Jin Feiming strikes the largest US deal with Simon Lee to directly import suits into California with a large distribution center based in Los Angeles.
Lee was my mother’s maiden name, and I realized suddenly I was looking at my maternal grandfather. My mother resembled my grandmother in the photograph enough that there was no mistaking it. I had known my mother came from a well-off family, but I had no idea they were part of the truly wealthy buying into the you mentality Jin was selling.
“Jason?” Daiyu said, touching me lightly on the shoulder.
I flinched, then made an effort to unclench my jaw.
“What is it?”
I turned to her with a half smile. “Maybe I was having a moment of homesickness. Jin Corp’s reach is impressive.”
Daiyu glanced at the global map, illuminated dots marking major manufacturing plants, distribution centers, and bestselling cities abroad. “It’s why my father is always traveling. He wants the whole world to be suited.”
She didn’t return my smile, but instead walked on. We stopped at an elevator and she punched in her security code at another blue touch pad. I hadn’t worn any recording devices because I couldn’t risk getting caught, so I had to rely on memory for everything I observed. We entered the elevator and Daiyu selected the fifth floor, the highest in the building.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the image of Jin with my maternal grandparents, each of them brimming with life. My anger and betrayal were underscored by sadness. They had tried to reach out to me after my mother had died, but I’d broken off all contact. At thirteen and orphaned, grappling with rage and grief, the gesture seemed false—too little, too late. Now the knowledge that they could have possibly saved my mother, had enough wealth to hire the best medical care for her—that hurt the most. But not once had my mother ever said to me, Call your grandparents for help.
Estranged and probably stubborn to a fault. I was my mother’s son.
“There’s a showroom on the ground floor for tourists to see how suits are made,” Daiyu’s voice broke into my thoughts, “but only investors ever get to see the actual factory floor.”
The elevator doors slid open and we stepped into another wide corridor. Floor-to-ceiling glass panels gave a bird’s-eye view of the factory below, taking up the entirety of the fourth floor. Dozens of employees wearing white lab coats worked at various stations, and I could see at least ten suits being made on the floor.
“These are all custom,” she said, standing near the glass pane. “They’re producing the cheaper suits on the second floor.”
I watched as an employee placed a glass helmet over a suit that was fitted on a life-size dummy, and the sleeves lit up in intricate bright purple designs.
“As you know, the custom suits are made specifically for one person,” she said. “When measurements are received, a mannequin is created to replicate the person’s physique, so we can ensure fit and wearability.” Daiyu began walking the circumference of the corridor, set in the octagonal shape of the building. Double redwood doors flanked the other side. “This is the executive floor,” she said. “My father’s office is located here, but also those of the design teams. This is where the scientists and engineers brainstorm to create improved suits with even better technology and enhances. It also houses all the computers and servers that keep our suits worn by clients functioning.”
While the ground floor had felt warm and welcoming, the feeling on this floor was exactly the opposite. The empty corridor was dimly lit, and the thick double doors appeared foreboding, guarding secrets within, and keeping strangers out. I noticed none of the doors had the blue touch pads that had allowed us access so far throughout the building. Instead, a curved glass dome was set overhead by the entrance of each door supported by a steel column. She followed my glance. “Brain wave scans are required to enter the highest-security areas within Jin Corp,” she said. “This floor is highly restricted.”
So Lingyi’s intel was right. I needed to convince Daiyu to use the brain wave scan and somehow capture a copy of it.
Daiyu was gazing down at the expansive factory. The space was clean and well lit, but entirely clinical, without the clutter in Arun’s lab, making it feel more intimate.
“Why a brain wave scan?” I asked.
“It’s the best security option on the market currently.” She turned to me, arching an eyebrow. It felt almost like a challenge.
“I’m not surprised,” I replied. “Nothing but the best for Jin Corp.” I walked over to the steel column, peering at the curved dome set overhead. “How does it work? I’ve never seen one before.”
Without prompting, she brushed past me to stand beneath the dome.
She faced me, and too late, I realized I should have slipped the device Lingyi had given me onto the column before she came over. Now there was no way for me to do it discreetly.
The machine turned on with a low hum, then a crosshatch of laser beams flashed across the top of Daiyu’s head, so her features were tinged a ghostly blue. “Our brain waves are unique, like our fingerprints,” she said. “A recording of my brain wave was captured to help with authentication—”
She was interrupted by the door beside us beeping once, and the gold doorknob was illuminated in green. Stepping away from the glass dome, Daiyu opened the heavy wooden door, then shut it again. The green light dimmed. “We had to think of an image as our brain waves were being scanned and recorded, and then must focus on the same image when we use the scanners for entry.”
“What’s the image?” I asked, curious.
“The Jin character,” she replied.
I detected a trace of sarcasm in her tone, but wasn’t sure if I was imagining it. Palming the slim device back into a hidden pocket in my suit, I cursed myself for not having played this better. What could I do to make her use it again?