Dragon Day

Chapter Twenty Three

★

“Someone can pick you up in an hour,” Vicky tells me.

I think I might have woken her up. Which feels oddly satisfying.

“Great,” I say. “I’ll be here.”

“Mr. Cao is anxious to see you,” she says.

The way she says it sounds like a threat.

“I’m really looking forward to seeing him, too,” I lie. And I disconnect.

Then I call my mom.

“Hello? Ellie?” She sounds anxious.

“Yeah. It’s me. Are you okay?”

“We’re fine. Andy and I just came back from walking Mimi and doing tai chi.”

“Oh, cool. So here’s the thing. Sidney should be sending you guys on your way today. But… I think it might be a good idea if you don’t go back to Beijing right now. Maybe you should just go visit Andy’s family in Xiamen, like you planned.”

“Well, sure. We can do that. But… what about you?”

And she sounds really worried now.

“I just have a few things I gotta take care of,” I say. “Nothing to worry about.”

There’s a pause.

“I really wish you would stop lying to me,” she says.

I feel this rush of… I don’t know what. Anger? Love? Something. Emotion I don’t have time for, whatever it is.

“I can’t get into it now,” I say. “Just… please go with Andy and visit his family. Okay? Because…”

I’m choking up, and I can feel the tears gathering in my eyes, and I don’t have time for it. “Just do this for me. It would really help.”

“Okay,” she finally says.

“I love you,” I say. “Pet Mimi for me.” And then I disconnect.

There’s one more thing I have to decide before Sidney’s men pick me up.

What do I tell Creepy John?

If there’s anyone who could do some damage with Celine’s email and that offshore company, it’s John. But do I want him to?

I pull that trigger and it’s going to have all kinds of consequences.

If I could trust him to keep the information safe and only use it if he has to, it could be ammo for me. I can tell Sidney and Uncle Yang, I’ve got this on you, so leave me and mine alone.

But I can’t trust him. He’s already shown me that he’s willing to put me in danger to advance his agenda, whatever it is, with the way he mouthed off at Yang Junmin at dinner. Maybe he just lost his temper, like he told me. What’s to say he won’t lose it again? Or that whatever his game is, it’s too big and important for him to not take advantage of ammo like that email.

I still should call him, though. Even if I’m not really sure why at this point.

“John.”

“Yili.”

“You’re okay?”

“Sure. Are you?”

“Yeah. I… I maybe found out something.”

“Tell me.”

“Celine’s friend Betty. She said Celine saw something at the party. And that Celine told her she should be careful of all the Caos, but especially Tiantian.”

“I can believe that.”

“Why?”

“I check a little more on the Caos. I find out Tiantian likes to visit santing, the ‘three halls,’ see some girls there.”

Bars, karaoke parlors, bathhouses, and the like.

“What, no ernai?”

John laughs, once. “Maybe Yang Junmin would not like that. But maybe Tiantian would not either.”

“What do you mean?”

“I hear he can be cruel to girls. A second wife can maybe cause him some problems, if he beats her. A xiaojie who works at KTV place… maybe not so easy for her to cause him problems.”

“And a xiaojie who works at a catering company…”

Yeah. A soft target.

The croissant I ate is sitting like a stone in my gut.

“That’s one thing,” I say. “The other… I’m pretty sure it was Celine who put my card on the body. She wanted to get me involved. I’m not sure why. Except she said to Betty that she wanted to cause trouble for the person who did this bad thing she saw. And she told me at the party that she’d heard some things about me.”

Now John snorts. “If she wants someone to cause some trouble, you are the good person to call.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Where are you?” His voice has suddenly changed. It’s soft and serious.

“Shanghai. I…”

There’s a new boat, and this one is easy: an open-sided cruise boat for tourists, two decks, the rails and struts painted red, the temple-style peaked roofs painted yellow, like a floating pagoda.

“I’m going to Sidney’s place in Xingfu Cun,” I say. “So I can tell him what I found out about his kids. He’s going to let my mom and Andy go if I do.”

“Yili, do not do this. Just wait. Let me go with you. Let me-”

“I can’t wait. That ship’s sailed.” Whatever ship it is. Maybe a barge. I laugh a little.

“Nothing bad’s going to happen,” I say, even though my gut’s saying otherwise. “But tell you what. If something does, which it won’t… go to Harrison Wang. You know him. Right?”

A pause. “Yes. I know who he is.”

“I made an arrangement to get something to him. If anything happens. You go to him and tell him I told you to. Tell him I said he should show you what I sent.”

“Please, Ellie, just wait.”

“Why? Something’s suddenly going to change? I mean, what am I waiting for?”

Give me an answer, John, I’m thinking. Just give me one fucking thing to hold on to.

But he doesn’t seem to have one, because all I hear is silence.

I see a new black Buick, cruising slowly up the road that separates the European buildings and the river walk. Headed in my direction.

“Nothing good’s gonna happen if I wait,” I say. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m done with all this.”

I sit in the back of the Buick and try to chill.

I called Sidney, and he swore that Mom and Andy and Mimi would be leaving Xingfu Cun like he promised. I talked to Andy, just to make sure we were all on the same page. “Yes, we go to see my relatives in Xiamen,” he told me. “No problem. We just pack the car now. They give us nice lunch to take along.”

I heard Mimi barking in the background, a happy bark, heard my mom say, “Good girl!”

I didn’t talk to my mom again. I already said good-bye once.

They’re fine, I tell myself. They have to be.

We drive a couple hours, maybe half of which is just sitting in Shanghai traffic, out into suburbs: flat, paved, hazy grey, factories here and there, remains of old towns and half-built new developments. Here’s one that looks like a housing tract near where I grew up in Arizona, too many cheap town homes built too close together; here’s another that’s a fake English village.

Finally we turn off onto a small road that runs through some farmland. Green fields, these half-cylinder frames covered with opaque plastic sheeting covering rows here and there-greenhouses? Farming is another thing I know fuck-all about.

At the end of the road, there are a couple of structures that look like connex-shipping containers converted to something else, housing or offices-and what looks like a couple of aircraft hangars. Then I see the runway, and I can guess what’s waiting.

Sidney Cao’s private jet.

I’ve flown Air Sidney before: the flight attendant in the retro uniform with the white gloves, short skirt, and peaked hat, the leather seats, the endless selection of fancy food and expensive booze. I don’t take advantage of it this time. I’m not hungry. I don’t even want to drink.

I just want to get this over with.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, we land at Xingfu Cun.

Xingfu Cun is Sidney Cao’s personal ghost city, as far as I can tell: a collection of nearly empty government and commercial buildings and half-built housing developments, high-rises covered in green construction netting and bamboo scaffolding. The government building is a huge black granite dome that I like to think of as the CCP Death Star. The shopping mall is really special, too-it’s this giant gold-painted pyramid thing that looks like a Mayan temple, or maybe an Egyptian one, architecture being another one of those areas I know fuck-all about.

I have no idea how many people live here or what they do. Maybe they all work for Sidney.

Vicky Huang is waiting for me when we land, standing impatiently on the tarmac next to her shiny Beemer SUV.

“So you are finally here,” she says.

“Yeah, finally.”

She looks me up and down. Sniffs. “Don’t you have any other clothes?”

“I have a clean shirt.”

I think.

“We can shop.”

I hold up my hands. “No. Mr. Cao wants to see me. Let’s not keep him waiting.”

I can tell she’s torn. She’d love to dress me up a little, but first things first.

“I will wait for you to change,” she says.

I duck into the hangar and change. I don’t care if anyone sees me, and I’m not sure if the shirt I put on is any cleaner than the one I took off.

Vicky barrels her SUV through the streets of Xingfu Cun, speeding down the avenues and swinging wide around the curves, which would normally make me nervous-that’s how we drove in the Sandbox, pedal to the metal, tougher to hit a moving target and all-but there’s hardly a car on the streets, hardly any people here at all. It’s like we’re driving around in some weird postapocalyptic movie, except with no zombies.

I lean back in the seat and try to clear my head. Just try to not think about anything at all. Like that army shrink told me.

Feelings are transient. You let yourself feel them, observe what they are, let them go.

I repeat it to myself a couple of times, but it doesn’t take.

I want to not feel anything right now. That’s what I really want.

Soon comes the long trip up the drive that leads to Sidney’s mansion. Sidney’s French palace. It’s more decorated than a wedding cake-curlicues, marble and gold everywhere-and instead of a champagne fountain there’s a real one, with statues of Greek gods and little cherubs. I can’t believe that anybody actually lives here, but so far as I know, Sidney does. And down in his basement he’s got an art collection that’s the envy of major museums.

The butler answers Vicky’s rap with the door knocker. Because of course Sidney has a butler. I’m only surprised that he didn’t go all out and hire an English one.

“Cao Xiansheng zai keting,” the butler murmurs to Vicky. Mr. Cao is in the living room.

We walk down the long hall I’ve walked before, the one with the paintings of European lords and ladies hunting and eating and posing with little froufrou dogs, all hung in these massive ornate, gilded frames. The butler leads the way.

I check my phone for the time. High noon.

He’s probably planning some crazy, over-the-top banquet lunch, I think. Expensive food and too much of it. That’s just how Sidney rolls.

The butler opens one of the massive carved wooden doors that are painted a high-gloss white. Gestures for me to enter.

I step inside, and that’s when I realize how wrong I was about lunch.

Sitting there in a semicircle, perched on the fancy French furniture, are the Caos: Sidney, Tiantian, Meimei, and Gugu.

Sidney rises.

“Ellie, thank you for coming.” he says. “Now you can tell us what you found out.”