Chapter Nineteen - Five
You have got to be kidding me. That’s what I want to say when I’m told about the funeral arrangements for my grandfather.
I expected something lavish. Something very Chinese. Something traditional and foreign. But what I did not expect is another long flight halfway around the world.
“I can read your thoughts, Five,” Chen says as I stand in silence.
He’s dead. I should not be annoyed by his death, but I am. I’m fucking annoyed that I’m his designated heir. I’m fucking annoyed that I came all the way to Hong Kong when so much is happening back in the US. I’m annoyed that Damian’s last wishes were to be buried on a hill at his Rancho Santa Fe home back in Southern California, so this whole trip is a waste.
I’m just… very fucking annoyed right now.
“Don’t let it show,” Chen adds.
I nod, but keep my silence. Nothing good will come from these feelings.
“The body is being prepped for travel. Everyone will be leaving tonight.”
I could’ve been with Rory right now. Getting her away from whatever’s coming. But no. I’m here. Acting petulant. Feeling helpless. And weighed down by tradition and expectations.
“I have you alone on the jet, since you’re the only living family member who will attend.”
The only good thing to come out of this. I took Chen’s advice and called my father. He’s handling my mom. My siblings will not be brought to California for the funeral and my parents will not attend.
This is the only good thing to come out of this… disaster.
“We’re going to lose everything,” Chen says.
“Yeah,” I say. “We are.”
But I don’t care. I don’t care about any of this anymore. I do not want to be the head of this organization, but if I must, then I’m certainly not dragging my brother and sisters along for the ride.
“It doesn’t have to be this way. You could make a show of power—”
“No,” I say, turning to face him. “No.”
I walk out, leaving him behind to finish with the details.
I’m done.
I want one thing. And that’s to set things right with Rory. Everything else can just fuck off.
I find my way to my rooms. There are guards stationed in every hallway of the nearly ten-thousand-square-foot mansion. But they are not my guards. They have no loyalty to me. They belong to him, to his dynasty, and now that’s all gone.
I’m not surprised at all that Chen’s vision of the future, the one that had me taking my grandfather’s place and business resuming as usual, was nothing more than the grandiose fantasy of an aging man who spent nearly his entire life at the top of the food chain, riding the success and prowess of his boss.
They were never going to accept me and they made that very clear a few hours ago when I arrived.
The Chinese Triads are not like the Italian Mob. They are not centralized like a drug cartel, for instance. They are loose, and shifting, and precarious.
And my grandfather managed to grab a hold of one and keep for decades. It’s an astonishing accomplishment. If you call heading a mob an accomplishment.
I’m not sure I do.
Chen has been his closest friend this entire time. Chen is nobody. More nobody than me. At least I have some claim to what my grandfather created here. He has nothing. And he needs me to be accepted. He needs me to take over. He needs me. Or he loses everything. They killed him, for fuck’s sake. They killed my grandfather.
Who?
It doesn’t even matter. It could be any of them. Any of the men in his organization. Any of the other leaders. Maybe even the government. Who knows? Who cares?
You’re next.
That thought has been racing around my brain since the flight.
I’m next. And then who? My mother and father? My little brother? My sisters? Rory? Where do they stop?
I open the door to my room to find… a man standing at the window, looking out at the impressive view of Victoria Harbor.
Annoyance is the only emotion I can muster. “Can I help you with something, Mr. Wen?”
Mr. Wen is my late grandfather’s biggest rival here in Hong Kong, a detective who’s been working to take down the various Triads for over a decade. And I have to reluctantly admit, it seems Chen’s paranoia was well warranted. Because Wen is here. In my rooms. And the guards are right outside.
He bows. Low. Then rights himself and says, in perfect British English, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“What do you want?”
He doesn’t react. Wen is an older man, but not as old as my grandfather. He’s dignified in a way that says elite boarding schools. “We have a mutual interest.”
“We do not,” I say bluntly as I cross the room, grab the decanter of Scotch from a small side table, and begin to pour before…
“I didn’t touch it,” Wen says, once I catch up with the state of things. “And I didn’t kill your grandfather.”
“No?” I ask, setting the decanter back down. I really need to get out of here. Maybe California isn’t such a bad idea after all.
“No,” Wen says. “His enemies are numerous. As are yours.”
“Are you one of them?” I ask, already tired of his polite charade.
“The most dangerous man is the one with nothing to lose, Mr. Aston.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“It’s not a threat.”
“Wasn’t taken as one. What. Do. You. Want?”
“What we both want,” he says, panning his hands wide. “Peace.”
I raise one annoyed eyebrow.
“I can help you,” he says.
“I doubt that.”
“Sit,” he says. Like this is his apartment and not mine.
I don’t sit.
Wen shrugs, walks over to me, pours himself a drink using the same decanter I just set down, and sips the Scotch. “It’s good.”
“It’s a rare Macallan. It should be.”
“Have one,” he says. Again, like this is his whiskey to offer.
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
Wen shrugs, takes another sip, and then returns to the window, his back to me. “Your princess is in trouble.”
I want to kill him. Right now.
“But it can be fixed,” he says, glancing over his shoulder.
“I’m not going to ask again—”
“I want,” he says, cutting me off, “your help. And a promise.”
“In exchange for what?”
“Plans, Mr. Aston. Their plans. For her. They’re very close. She’s at a party tonight, in fact. So far away from you. Five. But I have men watching closely.”
“And let me guess, she’ll be fine, but only if I give you what you came for.”
“That would be… sophomoric.” He laughs. “No. Tonight’s security is complimentary. But one week from tonight she has another event. Eat Meet?” He says it like a question. “Something particular to Princeton, I think? I don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s important she not go.”
“I can take care of that.”
“No, Mr. Aston, you can’t. You’re the reason they want her.”
I stare at him. And everything I thought I could prevent from happening is suddenly happening.
“But I have a plan. Your grandfather was already on board. That’s why he asked you to bring him that code last summer. All you have to do is say yes to my offer—the same offer he said yes to before they killed him—and things will be right in the world again. So what do you say?” he asks. “Will we be able to make a deal tonight?”
I grab the bottle of Scotch, pour myself a healthy four fingers, and meet him at the window. “Lay it on me, then.”
So he does.
And nothing that comes out of that man’s mouth has anything to do with saving Rory.