Chapter 2
In the coldest capital in the world, Iris Sun-Kwok bundled herself tightly in arctic fox furs, the frigid chill of the wind
burning the corners of her piercing eyes. The tarmac was paved with a lethal sheet of black ice, and both she and the old
attendant had to take tiny steps toward the hangar to avoid slipping.
The attendant held out his arm for Iris, but she shook her head, never a fan of unnecessary physical contact, even with shivering
limbs at stake. She looked up at the massive steel structure before them, the words “Mongol Transport” painted across the
side, albeit faded and peeling. She heard a loud clank and looked back down as the attendant slammed open the metal side door.
They both peered into the dark shelter, smelling of rust and old fuel. Iris let out a long exhale, her breath made dense by
the frigid air, and strode inside.
Stacked side by side in the hangar like petrified dinosaurs was a fleet of cargo planes.
The attendant flipped a switch and the lights flickered on.
He shook his head to himself. He had no idea why they were there.
But if this woman was indeed looking for something, she had better chance of finding a camel in the Gobi Desert—impossible!
Destined to be stripped for parts, these retired planes were still crammed with junk from their final journeys.
What on earth could she be searching for?
But his job was not to ask questions. This woman’s family owned not just every plane in this hangar, but they also owned the
hangar itself, the private airport upon which it stood and many miles of the Mongolian steppe that stretched in every direction.
These were not people who were to be ever questioned.
He released the airstair to the back of the first plane, motioning for her to step up. Iris accepted the flashlight from him,
peering inside the dark cargo with sharp eyes. If she was disheartened to see the mountains of packages and trash, all that
showed was a stoic gritting of her teeth.
Rolling up her sleeves, Iris began to look.
True to her name, Iris prided herself on a keen ability to see through anything. Even the tiniest of unintentional hints could
lead her to full-blown revelation. In another life she might have been a brilliant detective. But in this life, Iris’s ability
was an admirable trait useful to absolutely nobody but her, because she usually kept all her astute deductions to herself.
Whereas her older sister, Roses, was the obelisk, Iris was a sphinx—all riddles.
When she had landed in Ulaanbaatar that morning, Iris Sun-Kwok was thus intrigued when she received a group text from Roses,
inviting her and their two other siblings to the Malibu compound that upcoming Friday for an early dinner. “Come for cold lobster and caviar,” Roses had coaxed in the invite. Interesting, Iris had thought. Her big sister only dangled expensive food when she had a
big announcement to make.
Never mind that Iris was currently on the other side of the world; she would certainly rush back to be present at this dinner.
Iris was well-versed in the Asian language of food hospitality, and even though this group text had been sent to all their siblings, Iris knew that it was meant for her specifically.
Her sister Roses was not necessarily a woman of few words, but she was a woman of well-chosen ones, and the menu of the event was tailored for Iris, customized specifically with her favorites.
Stranger yet was the timing of the gathering. The Lunar New Year was only a couple weeks away and Malibu was a schlep for
everyone back home, even for Hyacinth, just down the coast in South Bay, and especially for George, coming all the way from
the Inland Empire. What was the rush when the entire Sun Clan was going to reunite soon anyway, especially this being Roses’s
zodiac year?
Iris Sun-Kwok was a good-looking woman, with a youthful face and wide-set, penetrating eyes that she normally hid behind pitch-black
sunglasses. That said, she did not possess the sleek physique of her other siblings. The fifty-five-year-old middle sister
of the Sun Clan, Iris was four years younger than Roses and seven years older than their little sister, Hyacinth. Their brother,
George, was Iris’s twin.
Technically, Iris was older than George by an hour, but that had hardly mattered. Being the twin sister of the only boy in
their family had been akin to being the wrapper of a candy. Her entire life, Iris had felt as easily disposable.
This was why, as ominous as it was, Iris felt a gratifying rush as she concluded that her big sister must need her for something.
As the leader of their family, Roses never needed anyone for anything, and the fact that only their generation was invited . . .
Perhaps Roses would even entreaty her in front of Hyacinth and George.
After Iris’s many years of self-subjected exile, her countless trips back and forth across the globe, her perpetual state
of jet lag and disappointment, even a glimmer of a sisterly outreach from Roses filled her with hope.
Ultimately, it was Roses who never let Iris forget what the middle sister had lost.
Hours later, shivering in her now-sullied furs, Iris descended from the last plane, fully dejected. She had rummaged through every box and package in every cargo plane, most of them empty except for rot and rust, none of them containing what she sought so dearly.
She looked around. The attendant had long since fallen asleep on the old rickety folding chair near the exit door.
She reached into her handbag and pulled out a handkerchief, dabbing at the near-frozen beads of perspiration dotting her forehead.
But the handkerchief moved down her face as tears began to brim at the corners of her eyes. She jabbed at them, refusing to
let them spill over.
She sat down on the airstair, taking a few deep breaths. Outside the hangar, she listened to the wintry blizzard continue
its dull roar over her icy isolation.
When her Sunfang phone suddenly rang, Iris let out a piercing shriek of surprise, jolting the attendant awake as he nearly
fell out of his chair. She recovered quickly, but when she glanced at the caller ID, the name on the screen startled her.
Why on earth was HE calling?
Cautiously she answered. “Hello?” she asked, half expecting a pocket dial.
“Hey Auntie Iris, is this a good time?” Cristiano Baccay’s voice already sounded a bit meek as he cleared his throat.
“Cristiano!” Iris’s mind immediately went to the worst place. “Why are you calling? Is everything okay over there? Is it Roses?”
Cristiano was the lifelong best friend of Iris’s son, Wayward, so she had known him since he was a child. She had even driven
them in car pool before they all got their licenses, and back then she had thought him to be a perfectly fine young man from
a decent family. But they didn’t have the type of relationship where he randomly called her.
Over the line she heard Cristiano chuckle apologetically. “I should’ve texted first. Please don’t worry, we are all safe and sound out here in Malibu. I’m sorry to bother you. I’d heard that you’re at a fancy resort in Bali.”
“Yes, lovely weather here,” Iris replied quickly as she pulled her furs closer around her. “So, what’s going on?
“We’ve had a rough day back home,” he said. “I’m wondering if you can help with something.”
Now Iris’s concern was sidelined by curiosity. “Of course I’ll help if I can. What do you need?”
“Oh, it isn’t for me. I was wondering if you could talk to April. She’s been so upset all day and I’m getting worried. And
she looks up to you so much . . .”
Upon hearing her favorite niece’s name, Iris instinctively snapped into full auntie mode. “Oh, April!” she warmed instantly.
“I’ll fly back right away. We are due for a lunch anyway. But why is she upset?”
She heard Cristiano sigh. “I think I’ll let her explain to you herself. She doesn’t even know I’m calling you. You know how
she is. But I just didn’t know where else to turn . . .”
Iris was already texting April. “No, you did the right thing, Cristiano. I’ll have a chat with April and I’m sure everything
will be just fine. Don’t you worry.”
After they hung up, Iris slowly walked out of the hangar, braved her way through the storm, and climbed into the SUV as the
attendant held its door open for her. Dots were connecting in her brain like nodes on a circuit board. First there was the
targeted text from Roses, followed by reports of her niece’s discontent. What exactly was brewing in Malibu?
In the comfort of the backseat, she got on her phone and made arrangements to be on the first flight back to California. She
was determined to find out what was going on before Roses’s gathering, so that she could arrive prepared. It still being Sunday
in Los Angeles, she certainly had enough time before Friday. She rubbed her hands together. She did enjoy a family mystery,
even more so solving it!
But then her smile faded. Here she was, in the middle of nowhere, no closer to solving the ultimate mystery that had plagued her for so many years. Ulaanbaatar had been her final lead . . . Where could she look next?
She pulled out a notebook and opened it to a worn page, scratching out the last city on a long list. She scanned it for a
long moment, then scrawled three question marks at the bottom, refusing to let it end.
As far as Iris was concerned, she was willing to look for the rest of her life.
Shanghai
Taipei
Beijing
Manila
Hong Kong
Singapore
Kuala Lumpur
Saigon
Tokyo
Seoul
Mumbai
Kaohsiung
Bangkok
Shenzhen
Ulaanbaatar
***