21
Raffles Hotel
August 29, 3:30 p.m. SGT
The afternoon sun became a blast furnace. Rob and I retreated farther into the shade. Fans beneath the eaves morosely pushed the air, cooling off nothing but the giant banana spiders hulking in the corners.
It was just us and Dai Shujun, sweltering.
Rob cleared his throat. “Naughty, I need you to hold your horses, button your lips, and ride the tide of what I’m about to tell you.”
Unease hammered at my temples. “You’re mixing your metaphors.”
“There are worse crimes.” He sighed, and the sadness in his eyes deepened. “I’m responsible for Cass’s death.”
“Oh, Rob, you’re not. She—” I paused. What could I say to him? Not the truth.
“There’s a lot going on that you don’t know about,” he said. “I’d hoped to talk to you before Guy sent you here, but I didn’t get the chance. Still, better late than never. Ocean House will be yours one day, and I want you to go in with your eyes open.”
A warm puff of air from the fan stirred my hair. A chorus of cicadas sounded from the greenery near the fountain, and a bird gave a loud uwu whistle.
“Go on.” I braced myself.
Rob took a healthy swallow of his Singapore Sling, then set the glass down. A bee buzzed around the sweetness, and he waved it away.
“Cass and I—” He stopped, then restarted. “Ocean House is in worse straits than you think.”
I don’t know what, exactly, I’d been expecting. For Rob to tell me that he knew Cass was working with the CIA? That he understood the danger she’d been in? My mind was still with Connor in Saravanan’s apartment; I hadn’t given Ocean House’s bottom line much thought other than that we couldn’t risk losing the market in Asia.
I pivoted. “How bad is it?”
Rob dabbed the moisture from a drink coaster and fanned himself with it. “We’re in the red. Deep.”
I gaped at him. “Isabeth—that’s not what her reports have said.”
“We were wrong to hide the full extent of our troubles from you and Cassandra. It was Goebbels, I believe, who said that a lie told often enough becomes the truth. If that were the case, we’d have no worries at all.”
I growled. “Rob.”
“Wait. There’s more.” He swallowed more of his drink. “On top of our financial concerns, Paxton Yachts has bled off more of our talent than we let on. And I agree with your father—I think they had a hand in sabotaging Rambler .”
As if Cass’s death hadn’t been enough, Rob’s admission confirmed my cloak-and-dagger fears. At the monastery, Charlie Han had said that Paxton’s funding came from the Chinese. Now I was struck by the weight of what that meant. The danger wasn’t just to me; it was also to my family and Ocean House.
“Sabotage,” I echoed. “Do we have proof?”
His sigh was almost a sob. “Cass was helping me troubleshoot Rambler .” He looked away, fanning himself hard enough to stir his thick silver hair. “She knew what was at risk for us. And still I leaned on her. ‘Finish Red Dragon ahead of schedule,’ I told her as things went from bad to worse. ‘Find more clients. We’re desperate ,’ I said. ‘It’s on your shoulders.’”
“Rob, stop. Please. Cass was stronger than that. Whatever drove her to—to take her own life, it wasn’t anything you did. But if Paxton is guilty as you say, then they must be held accountable.”
“My Nadia.” He patted his eyes with a cocktail napkin. “We’ve already lost one Brenner to this struggle; we can’t risk losing another. After we take Cass home, I want you to remain in Seattle and focus all your energy on our domestic market. Build Sovereign II for Matthew. And while you’re at it, maybe marry the guy—you’ve been stringing him along for years. I’ll finish Red Dragon . And let me worry about Paxton and Asia. I’m not as young as I used to be, but I can still give as good as I get.”
“Rob ...” My voice trailed off into a thicket of things I couldn’t say. I ignored his gibe about Matthew. “Let’s get Cass home, and then we can think about the future. Maybe Asia isn’t right for us just yet.”
He reached over and squeezed my hand hard enough to hurt. “Don’t tell me you’ve bought into your father’s timidity.”
Before I could respond, a vaguely familiar voice boomed, “I’ll be damned! Rob Brenner!”
We both turned. Phil Weber was plowing toward us from across the courtyard. He wore tennis whites; as he approached, the childhood scent of coconut suntan lotion reached my nose.
Rob’s face had gone the color of sea-foam. He pressed a hand to his chest, and I worried about his heart. But he stood as Weber approached and pasted on a smile. “Phil!” he cried. “My old tennis buddy. What a surprise.”
Weber grasped Rob’s hand in one of his and gripped Rob’s elbow with the other. “It’s very good to see you.” He nodded at me. “And Nadia. A pleasure.”
Rob waved Weber toward a chair. “Join us?”
I sneaked a glance toward Dai Shujun. He had abandoned the fountain and disappeared. Maybe he preferred I not point him out to Weber.
“I’ll join you for a moment,” Weber said. “Then I must be off. Tennis match with the British attaché, which is always humbling. The man has a wicked serve. I’m deeply sorry about your niece, Rob.” He brought me into his gaze. “Nadia and I made our acquaintance recently. How are the two of you holding up?”
“We’re doing as well as we can,” Rob answered. “But it’s good to see you, Phil. It’s been, what, ten years?”
A note of warning sharpened Rob’s voice, and a crease appeared between Weber’s eyes—there and then gone. The ten years was a lie. What was that about?
Weber nodded. “Ten, at least,” he agreed. “You still get out on the court?”
“No more tennis,” Rob said. “I’m entirely too lazy. And work keeps me busy.”
“You and Guy have done wonderful work with your grandfather’s company. Congratulations on your success.”
“You haven’t done half-bad yourself.”
Weber gave a half smile. “It’s been a good run.”
“You give up the old work?”
“Not at all.” Weber’s smile widened, revealing the large canines, but his eyes darkened. “Never stopped.” He glanced at his watch and stood. “Good to chat with you both. Sorry I can’t stay. I’d love to catch up. Maybe dinner?”
“We’re flying out tomorrow,” I said. “To take care of my sister.”
“Of course.” He clasped Rob’s shoulder. “Your family is in my prayers. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”
Rob and I watched Weber walk the path toward the front drive. Rob picked up his drink and downed half of it.
“Son of a bitch,” he said.
“What was that about the old work?”
“Phil used to be in law enforcement,” he said shortly.
“And the lie about how long it’s been since you saw each other?”
“Sometimes, my dear, you overread the room.” He drained his glass and stood. “I’m going to check in and unpack. Probably take a short nap. Shall we meet in the lobby for dinner?”
“Let’s make it six o’clock. We can eat here at the hotel and have an early night.”
After Rob left, I checked in with our build supervisor, Owen Ewing. I explained that I’d be accompanying my uncle back to Seattle in the morning to take Cassandra’s ashes, and that I trusted him and Andrew Declough to manage things while I was gone.
“When do you expect to return?” Ewing asked after expressing his condolences.
“It might be as long as a few weeks.” I said this even as I knew that I was almost certainly not coming back. Nor was Rob, if I could prevent it. “I’ll be in daily contact via video chat. And I can be back in Singapore within twenty-four hours if need be.”
I ended the call, then phoned each of the managers on Cass’s staff with the same news. Finished, I headed upstairs to shower and change, my heart constricted by guilt.
I could never tell my family the truth about Cass’s death. Not without exposing Connor McGrath and risking Mr. Mèng’s family.
Forgive me, Cass, for hiding the truth. And for not taking your place.
Again, I sensed her ghost dogging my footsteps as I mounted the stairs.
You’re the one who must live with yourself, Nadia. Her voice seemed to echo down the hallway.
You’re the one who said family is the most important thing, I shot back.
As I opened the door to my room, air-conditioning blasted me. I shivered in the sudden cold.
I drowned, Cass’s ethereal voice murmured. And you weren’t there for me.