CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER
AFTER A TIME NASH AND Thura had been allowed to go out by themselves in Hong Kong. Nash knew the city fairly well, having been there on business when he worked at Sybaritic.
Hong Kong was one of the most densely populated places on earth, and the influence of its Chinese master was felt everywhere. And yet it was also energetic and exciting. Once or twice Nash almost forgot that he was a prisoner of Victoria Steers.
He and Thura had walked through some parks, taken in some shows, and ridden on the sightseeing boats. They had eaten at good restaurants and had even taken a ferry to Macau and gambled some dollars away. The fascinating tram tours and the delicious dim sum had particularly delighted Thura.
And Thura had been provided with women, or so he told Nash one day in Nash’s apartment. Lots of them.
He’d exclaimed, “Oh my God, man, unbelievable. The most beautiful women. And they’ll do anything you want. Anything.”
“Thura, I really don’t need to hear the details, okay?”
“Have you had women?”
“No.”
“Do you not like women?”
“I don’t like women who are provided to me, because they don’t have a choice.”
Thura’s enthusiasm had drained away. “Not a choice? This I did not know.”
“What, you thought they were all in love with you?”
Thura had leaned against the wall, his features perplexed. “I. . .maybe next time I will just talk to them, you know. Just talk. Or we could listen to music, or dance. Get to know each other. Then. . .if they want to . . .”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Nash had told him.
As the months went by they had escorted Masuyo on many trips into the heart of the city, mostly shopping and dining and some sightseeing.
The woman seemed to absorb every detail of what she was seeing, and then she would glance at Nash and seem to perform the same deeply penetrating appraisal that her daughter performed so effortlessly.
She would order them around with terse commands, and then when they returned home she would dismiss them with a curt, imperious wave of her hand.
The queen really has come home to roost, Nash had thought. Well, the other queen.
He had also been summoned by the woman for various tasks while she had been in her office with a computer in front of her and stacks of files on either side of her. She was apparently scrutinizing every aspect of her daughter’s business empire.
And now maybe her empire once more, Nash had also speculated.
He had seen little of Steers lately. At certain times some of her protection detail was gone, so he assumed the woman was traveling.
They had been given phones, but Nash knew they would be closely monitored, so he could do nothing personally with his.
And he could not buy a burner phone without it showing up on the credit card statement, since it was a card provided to him by Steers.
He could access the accounts where he had parked the monies provided to him by the FBI, and use that to buy a phone. But then there was the problem of hiding it somewhere that it could not be discovered, but where he would still have access. He was still thinking that one through.
During one of these excursions, while Thura had visited a cigar shop, Nash had taken a risk and finally managed to find, after much effort, a public pay phone.
He had used it to call Agent Morris, but it had gone to voicemail.
He had left a detailed message telling the agent everything that had happened, including the murder of Lynn Ryder and more details of what had transpired in Myanmar and their supporting role in Masuyo’s escape from the mysterious prison.
When Nash had put down the receiver he had looked around and hoped that he had not been seen.
But if he took no risks at all, Nash knew he would accomplish nothing.
He was sure that at some point Masuyo would want him to do something that went against Steers’s interest. And Steers might, at any time, demand information about her mother’s actions.
If he refused to answer or, worse yet, lied?
And she found out? But if he did tell the truth, would Steers see that as a betrayal to her mother?
Damned if I do and damned if I don’t.
Since he knew it would seem normal to Steers, on his phone he had constantly scrolled the American business news and had learned that the board of Sybaritic, meaning Rhett Temple, had appointed a woman named Neisha Mirza to be the CEO of the company.
And Elaine Fixx had once more taken over Nash’s old job.
He’d wondered if Agent Morris had followed up on his suggestion to try to recruit Fixx to their effort.
One day Nash was instructed through an email that Masuyo wanted to go out. Nash was also told that accompanying her would be her daughter’s former nanny, Hiroko, whom Nash had never heard anyone mention before. And another thing that was different: The email had come from Steers, not her mother.
He had Thura get things prepped after they received the travel itinerary. It was only shopping, and then afternoon tea at an upscale café that they had taken Masuyo to many times previously.
Nash received another email from Steers asking him to retrieve Hiroko and bring her to Masuyo’s suite.
He knocked on the apartment door that was situated on a lower floor, and instantly heard the sounds of shuffling feet.
The door opened and an elderly Asian woman appeared there.
She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall and a hundred pounds.
She wore a dark jacket and slacks with a creamy blouse, and her white hair was cut in straight lines across her forehead and down the sides.
Her powdered face was heavily lined; her smile at the sight of Nash seemed genuine.
“Mr. Hope, it is so nice to finally meet you. Please come inside and wait for a moment while I finish my preparations for our journey today.”
Nash stepped inside, smiling at the formal language used by the woman. They weren’t journeying, really, just taking a drive barely twenty minutes away.
“Yes, ma’am. Take your time. There’s no rush.”
She scuttled away, saying, “I haven’t been out in ages. So much fun. Tea, I understand?”
“Yes, with Mrs. Steers.”
Hiroko abruptly stopped and turned. “Mrs. Steers? Not. . .not Victoria-san?”
Now Nash was unsure. “No, um, what were you told, ma’am?”
“I was told nothing other than shopping and tea, I thought with Victoria-san. I know she is so very busy but she comes to visit me quite often. And we have the most wonderful talks about. . .the old times.”
“Um, well . . .”
Nash whirled around when the voice said, “You will be going shopping and having tea with my mother, Hiroko-san.”
Steers stood in the doorway dressed, as usual, all in black except for a pair of white lace-up shoes. She barely glanced at Nash.
Hiroko looked surprised. “Your mother? Your mother is. . .here? You. . .you never mentioned . . .”
To Nash, the elderly woman did not seem very happy about this development.
“Yes, I’m sorry that I did not tell you. She has come home. I want you to see her. To spend time with her.”
“If you wish it, Victoria-san. I will do whatever you want me to do.”
Nash glanced at Steers and was surprised to see her lips trembling. “You honor me with your faith, dear Hiroko-san,” she said. Then Steers bowed to the woman.
Hiroko returned the gesture and rushed off.
Nash eyed Steers. “Is there anything I should know?”
She would not look at him. “Hiroko-san has taken care of me since I was born. She is an honored member of my family. She worked hard all her life and now she has her just reward.”
“So she and your mother know each other then?”
“They know each other,” replied Steers.
“Okay,” said Nash, looking confused.
Steers now glanced at him. “It is sometimes difficult for mothers to appreciate others whom their children adore.”
“Oh, okay, sure, I get that.”
“Hiroko-san is kind and sweet and would never think of harming anyone,” said Steers, now staring at the wall.
Nash wondered if the woman had left unsaid, Unlike my mother, who is not kind or sweet and will destroy anyone she believes she needs to.
“She seems to be all of those things.” Nash glanced around at the neat confines of the apartment. “And she keeps a really spic-and-span home.”
Steers smiled at this remark and, to Nash’s eye, when she did it softened all the hard edges of the woman; indeed, she looked far more like the shy little girl in the old photo.
“When I was a child Hiroko-san would have me make my bed every morning before breakfast. She told me that if I did so I would always have a clean place to return to that night. And that all things in between those times would be better off because my mind would be focused and organized. I have followed that advice all my life.”
“I can see that.”
She gazed at him but still seemed distant. “Can you, Mr. Hope?”
“You have no need to call me Mr., Ms. Steers. I work for you.”
“Unwillingly,” she said, then seemed to regret that comment. “I prefer to keep things formal between employee and employer.”
“As you wish,” he replied.
“I want Hiroko-san to enjoy her outing.”
“I’ll do all I can to make it pleasant and safe. That’s my job.”
“And my mother?”
“My job obviously covers her as well. You and she made that very clear to me.”
“I’m sure she did.”
Nash now wondered if Steers was going to grill him on any special instructions or demands her mother might have made on him. And he wasn’t sure what his reply would be.
But, thankfully, she didn’t. Instead, she said, “You should become acquainted with Hiroko-san, Mr. Hope. She is a good person to. . .know.”
“With your permission, I will.”
“You have it,” Steers said curtly. She turned and walked off.
As she was walking down the hall, Nash’s hand went to his gun. An easy kill shot. Back of the head. All he had to do was—
Hiroko appeared behind him. “Mr. Hope, I am ready.”
He let his hand fall back to his side, turned, smiled at her, and said, “Then off we go.”