He laughed and reached his other hand into a pants pocket to extricate a key ring. But instead of opening the door for me to get out, he unlocked the door to the upstairs floors. He fished into his pocket again and pointed a small, black gun straight at my face.
Never go anywhere that the guy with the gun tells you to go. This rule of life, drilled into me ever since I was a child in San Francisco, came to me now. As adrenaline surged, I yelled and I kicked as hard as I could at his groin.
The door to the room where I’d left Kainoa had opened, but through my grappling with Liang, it was pushed shut again. I heard glass shatter behind me, felt shards bounce on my bare shoulders like hail. Now I was being pulled backwards, the left shoulder strap of my sundress breaking. From the crack in the other doorway, Kainoa stared as I tripped backwards out of the opened front door into the muggy, welcoming Chinatown air. And from the familiar smell, and the wiry strength of the arms and body, I knew who’d gotten hold of me: Michael.
“Stay there,” Michael snapped at Kainoa, who stepped back a pace and nodded.
“He’s not the bad guy,” I said to Michael, my heart still jack-hammering under the corselet.
“I know,” Michael said to me, and as Vang and Fujioka crowded into the foyer, he said to his colleagues in a voice as relaxed as if he was continuing the restaurant discussion, “Liang’s gone upstairs, and he’s armed.”
Now that I was safe, I was flooded with feelings: relief at being in Michael’s arms and not upstairs with Liang, anxiety for Kainoa, and some embarrassment that I’d had to be rescued. I said to Michael in a low voice, ‘I didn’t mean to blow my cover. It just sort of happened.”
“Don’t worry about that. What I want to know is why you didn’t follow our instructions to vacate immediately when Liang walked into the room?” Michael demanded.
“I never heard it because my earpiece fell off.” The rest of what Michael was saying became drowned out by the sirens of three arriving police cars. At Michael’s urging, Kainoa explained the layout of the building, including a back exit. Two men headed to the back of the building and the others went up the stairs to join their colleagues.
By now, a curious crowd of people had assembled-a few panhandlers, Asian merchants, and tourists with their camcorders. I tried to ignore the spectacle as best I could, but imagined I was going to wind up in a few home movies, broken dress strap and all.
“But this is so fast. Don’t they need a warrant to go in?” I asked Michael.
“Honey, we all witnessed an attempted armed kidnapping. There’s plenty of reason to go after the bastard.”
“I suppose so. But that’s completely different from the reason I went in there-to get him to say something about Braden.” I turned, and spoke directly to Kainoa. “I just wanted you to tell the truth.”
“If Liang wants the judge to knock a few years off his sentence, he’s going to have to talk about his operation, sending minors out to steal rocks,” Michael said.
“You really think Liang’s going down? He’s got a lot of power behind him, if you catch my meaning,” Kainoa said. He no longer looked shaken; the mask of island cool was back.
“He’ll go down for what just happened to Rei,” Michael said. “Anything else you can help the cops with would be much appreciated. And it would help you, too.”
MICHAEL AND I drove back to the Leeward Side of the island with the Sebring’s top down, a hot, dry wind whipping my hair across my face. I consciously avoided staring at the blackened fields on either side of us, focusing instead on the ocean shimmering in the mid-afternoon sun. My exultation at having completed the operation with success beyond our expectations was fading. I glanced at Michael, silently counting how many hours we had left before he flew to Washington.
I could have a lot more time with him, if we got married. But could it work? I knew what I loved about Michael, but I wasn’t sure if he had a realistic picture of me. Would he wake up one morning, realize I wasn’t going to be around forever, and feel the need to run?
Work was another problem. Michael had blithely mentioned giving up OCI, his life’s passion, to avoid impropriety and give me a chance to continue. On the other hand, I was just a freelance contractor to the Japan Bureau, and while there were things about spy work I enjoyed, I couldn’t see myself growing old taping wires in my lingerie.
“I don’t know what to do,” I said aloud.
“I don’t either,” Michael said. “Do you think we should go to Braden’s family first, or your own?”
“My father was pretty worried about the operation, so I want to see him first,” I said firmly.
“Let’s not forget about Braden, though,” Michael said. “Think how relieved he’ll be to know Liang is in custody. Maybe this is all he needs to step forward and tell the truth about what was happening with the rocks.”
“Braden was scared of retaliation. He still might be, because of Liang’s gang ties.”
Michael was silent for a moment, and then said, “If it’s all right with Edwin and Margaret, and the judge, Braden could come back with me to the mainland. There’s a boys’ boarding school in central Virginia I have in mind.”
“A surfer at an east-coast prep school?” I sputtered. “Braden would hate it, and they’d never admit him anyway!”
“They’re used to wild boys, Rei; it’s their specialty, and I know there are generous scholarships for under-represented minorities.”
“Why do you know so much about this place?”
“I’m a trustee.” Michael shrugged, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.
“It just might work,” I said, wheels turning. “If he agreed to go, and you did all the paperwork.”
“Everything will work out. I’ve got a gut feeling about this.” Michael slowed the car to stop at the traffic light and turned to me. I put my head on his shoulder for a minute, until the car beyond us honked, letting me know the light had changed.
When we pulled up to the townhouse, we were met by the now familiar sight of Edwin’s car in our driveway. Well, maybe it was all for the better: I could tell them that Braden’s terrible boss was now behind bars.
But when I got inside, nothing was what I expected. Edwin and Margaret were crouched next to the sofa, where someone lay motionless, with a blanket over him.
My father.
33
“YOU HERE AT last!” Edwin shot a glare at me, filled with what looked like a mixture of relief and anger. “Your dad’s not feeling good at all.”
“How long has this been going on?” I was already at the couch, looking at my father’s closed eyes and sweating forehead, despite the full-force air-conditioning. He was alive, but he needed a doctor. “Has Tom examined him?”
“Tom and Hiroshi are still playing golf on the other side of the island, we think,” Margaret said. “We think we got Tom’s voicemail, but we’re not positive, because the message was in Japanese.”
“Yeah, fat lot of good your lawyer’s done, taking away the family doctor when we need him. I sent Braden and Courtney to get that Calvin who lives with the Kikuchis,” Edwin said.
My father’s eyes flickered open as I leaned over him. I whispered, ‘What’s going on?”
My father’s eyes remained closed, but he muttered, ‘Headache. The worst I’ve ever had.”
The night before, I’d worried that my working with the police might raise my father’s blood pressure. Now I knew that the worry had been valid, and blood pressure was the least of it. I held my father tightly, willing him to live as I prayed. No. Don’t let this happen. It’s not fair!
“We should call an ambulance.” Michael’s voice cut through my desperate prayers.
“Ambulance ride around here starts at six hundred dollars,” Edwin said. “If you don’t call the insurance first, they won’t pay. And you better find out if the hospital’s pre-approved.”