The Life We Lead: Ascending (20 page)

“Welcome,” Jie said. She turned and walked to
her desk, sitting in a high-backed chair as though she were
royalty.

“Prease allow me to introduce my nephew, Yan.
He is very bright young man who speaks ten ranguages fruentry,”
said Lien.

The stranger from the pool shook hands all
around. When he reached James, he briefly locked eyes with him.

James’s eyes swept over Yan, and he quickly
realized this was not someone to underestimate. Yan’s energy and
demeanor radiated confidence and power, and he had the body of a
trained fighter. His clothes were new and looked to be of European
fashion. Most likely, he’d been educated there, probably in France
or England.

Breaking the handshake, Yan went and stood on
his mother’s left side, allowing Lien to finish the
introductions.

“This is Seim,” Lien pointed, “and that man
go by name Hansel from the children’s book.”

Hansel didn’t look German, James noted. More
Egyptian. He noticed that Tim was fidgeting slightly.

Yan began to speak, and James noticed that
his mother looked straight ahead at them, but the others’ heads
dropped ever so slightly.

“Yes, welcome. My family is honored to
receive you. Please have a seat.” Yan motioned to the chairs in
front of the desk.

As James and Tim moved to sit down, they
heard a cart being pushed.

Yan continued, “May we offer you
refreshment?”

A rather nice selection of fresh fruit,
cookies, and cheeses appeared with a variety of drinks.

Tim glanced at James before selecting
pineapple and a bottled water. James took two small cookies and
also bottled water.

“Thank you,” Tim said, excitedly eating his
pineapple, his favorite fruit.

“It is our pleasure to have you here as our
guests,” Yan said with a gracious smile, but his eyes were as
calculating as his mother’s, who was watching with great
interest.

She said something to Yan in Chinese. He went
on, “We have gotten a note from Noi Rasa saying that your
identities were verified. He says the requested bond of $300,000
U.S. dollars has also been collected. He goes on to say our
security measures of finger printing and photo taking are also
complete. His final note is that you, Mr. Ferguson, and you, Mr.
Mathers, are related. Cousins?”

“We are. Our mothers are sisters who married
into very wealthy families,” James said with pure confidence. Tim
nodded with a mouthful of fruit, his right leg bouncing a
little.

Yan presumably translated that for his
mother, who gave a small nod. “Always good to have family, is it
not?” he said rhetorically, looking up at them. “We have my family
here, my mother, my uncle, my aunt, and all of our ‘children.’”

On the last word, he spread his arms as if to
say everyone in the complex was part of the family, too.

“The missing part of my family is my father.
He is not here, not for five years since he died.” Yan leaned
forward on the desk with both hands. His tone and speech were
steady, but his body language reflected barely coiled
aggression.

Tim was thankfully still occupied with the
fruit, but James focused on the son and his mother. She sat as if
made of stone.

“You come here seeking information on a man
most hated by this family. By my mother,” Yan stood up and swung
his right arm toward her before pointing his thumb at his chest.
“And by me.”

“Anthony Spara and his family are why my
father is dead,” Yan declared. “They took away the business my
father helped build and gave it to the pukes of Russia and
Afghanistan. They took away our great border connections to operate
freely with our other business. You see what extremes we have to go
to. My mother wants to know exactly why you want this information
and what you mean to do with it?”

The mother made no motion, but Lien wore an
angry look on his face.

James spoke matter-of-factly but with great
conviction. “We feel the information you have on Anthony Spara may
allow us to bring his family down and send them all to prison for
life. We also think it will cause massive disruptions to the Afghan
and Russian drug trafficking markets. That should result in a few
key people losing their lives for not being able to move the
material. In short, we want to ruin all the people you hate.”

“That is not answering why,” Yan said in the
same stance he had taken when talking about his father.

“That is simple. He did the same thing to our
fathers.” James made a motion toward Tim, who looked up from his
third serving of pineapple and nodded.

Yan translated what James had said to his
mother, but it didn’t sound Chinese. Then he asked “How?”

“The Spara family also cheated our families
out of our share of money. My father is a rather successful
gasoline chain owner in the U.S. We have a lot of distribution
capability, access to refineries, and that sort of thing.”

James took the opportunity to glance at Tim,
whose leg had not stopped bouncing. By the state of his chin, he
wasn’t going to stop eating pineapple until the tray was empty.

James continued, nodding towards Tim, “His
dad is a rather well-known and respected investment banker. He has
the ability to move a lot of cash as he needs to.” James was making
this up on the spot.

Yan opened his mouth to speak, but his mother
said something sharply.

Yan turned and translated what James had said
before receiving more words from his mother.

“That is interesting, but how does it relate
to moving drugs?” Yan said.

“The investment banking allows for easier
money laundering. I think you can see how it can be useful. Besides
the apparent logistics associated with the gasoline, there’s
another factor. My uncle and father invested a great deal of money
in figuring out how to dissolve the heroine into gasoline to
transport it undetected and then to process it back out quickly and
purely.”

Yan translated all this before James went
on.

“Anthony Spara saw the operation, had his
people trained on how to do it, and cut my father and uncle out.
He’s been working with a different laundering agency for years and
lied to us about the rate he was charged. He also decided it was
easier to start bribing gasoline drivers across the nation instead
of waiting for my father’s fast-growing business to get out of the
northeastern part of the U.S.”

Again Yan translated, but he seemed to be
speaking yet a different language than before. The accents weren’t
the same.

There was a moment of silence. Yan gave a
tiny nod to his mother, who gave a much larger one back. Yan turned
to face them.

“You have purchased the file and we are happy
to give it to you, friends,” Yan said. “However, my uncle informs
me that we may have other business to discuss. Is this true?” he
inquired.

Tim was fidgeting so bad that it was hard to
ignore, and Yan certainly had noticed. “Are you all right, Mr.
Ferguson?” he asked.

Tim stood up, and James realized what was
wrong before he said it.

“I really need to go make,” Tim said.

“Make? What does this mean?” Yan said, taken
aback.

“He has to use the bathroom. And while he
does that, we can discuss further business,” James said.

“Oh, yes, I see.” Yan motioned to Seim. “Seim
will show you where you may use the restroom,” he said to Tim.

James watched them move along the corridor on
the monitors, his mind racing.

This was his chance to set something up
without Tim overhearing the conversation and potentially blowing
the cover. He basically needed an excuse to come back and also to
understand how they got all this electrical equipment and power if
they couldn’t bring in simple battery powered objects.

“So how do these arrangements typically work
for your organization?” James asked. He really had no clue how to
begin something like this.

“Very simple. What would you like?” Yan said.
“We have a wide variety as you have seen, and getting something
special is not too much of a problem if you do not care for our
inventory.”

James could feel his anger growing and fought
to contain it.

Variety! Inventory! These are kids, not
wines or fruit!

He took a deep breath and forced himself to
calm down. Not like most people do, but by taking control and going
extremely logical. This topic, however, was proving difficult to be
logical about.

“I think your current inventory will meet the
needs of my cousin and me,” James said, returning the smile that
Yan was giving him with an effort. “Where would we be on pricing?”
he asked.

“I see that you are excited, my friend,” Yan
laughed. “Your ears are burning with desire. Price depends on what
you want and how you want them trained. We can accommodate anything
you desire.”

“Jasmine seemed to catch Mr. Ferguson’s eye,
and she seemed fond of him in the bath,” said Lien. “And prease
correct me Mr. Mathers, but you seem fond of X.”

“Another one for X. No, that will not do,”
Yan said, shaking his head. “He is old and used. Should have gotten
rid of him, but he is good for the others.”

“But Mr. …” started Lien, but Jie stood and
began to shout at Lien, who instantly quieted. She then turned on
Yan. When he looked at her, she lowered her tone quickly as she
finished her words with him.

“I apologize, Mr. Mathers, for my uncle
speaking out of turn. And I should not dismiss a desire of yours as
my mother rightfully pointed out. Would you care for X, and do you
think Jasmine would be suitable as a starting point for Mr.
Ferguson?” Yan asked all of this in a flat, but polite, tone.

Two things registered. First, Jie spoke
English. No one had continued to translate for her. Second, Yan was
in charge, not her. She was a cover. That was the feeling he’d
sensed, and the feeling in his stomach told him he was right.

“What would be the cost, and when could we
arrange all this for delivery?” James asked. He knew he was getting
short on time.

“What preparation do you require? We are able
to train them in …” Yan started.

“No, no additional training aside from
education in studies such as math, science, English, and such,”
James said as he caught site of Seim and Tim reappearing in the
first monitor. “Also, I would like this to be a surprise for my
cousin. So if we can just refer to ‘the package’ when he comes
back, that would be appreciated.”

Yan nodded. “The cost will $50,000 U.S.
dollars for X and $65,000 for Jasmine. This is a special deal for
you. It is because you are going to take care of Spara and also to
encourage you to come back to us for future needs.” Yan gave what
he felt was a charismatic smile and wink, and James fought the urge
to get up and beat him silly.

“That is fine. I will have to make
arrangements to get documents to take them with us and to get back
here for them. That may take some time. Plus, we would like them to
be fully fluent in English. Say less than a year, hopefully closer
to six months.”

“So long?” Yan said as Tim and Seim
returned.

“There are a lot of moving pieces, and I want
to do it right. Besides, by that point I may have news for you on
how we are doing with taking care of Spara.” James stood up. “And
it gives you time on your end, as well.”

Yan recognized James’s standing as a take it
or leave it move.

“We leaving?” asked Tim.

“I believe we have finished all our business.
I assume payment in the same way as before and that you will inform
Mr. Rasa and he will be the connection point again?” James
asked.

“Yes, very good. Very good,” Yan said. He
whispered something to his mother, who rose from her seat and
walked directly to Fang, who stepped aside.

She pressed on the molding at the corner of
her chair and a small click sounded. She apparently had triggered a
small, secret vault room.

She entered and took a few steps that could
be heard on the stone floor of the room.

James imagined she must have a stride of
about eighteen inches. If so, the vault was at least a few feet
deep, which meant it could hold more than a single file.

She returned quickly and handed a thick
binder to James. She then bowed and said her second word in
English. “Goodbye.”

Promptly, Fang and Seim steered James and Tim
out of the room, followed by Lien.

A few paces down the hall, Seim broke away at
a run.

“We thank you very much for your time. It was
good to meet with you. Joe will return you to Noi,” Lien said at
the main door as Seim appeared, closely followed by Joe. Lien
handed Joe Noi’s carrier and returned inside.

While they walked with Joe back through the
inner wall, James tried to mentally capture all the points he could
on dimensions, cameras, and the like. It was a lot to take in,
especially when he was still fuming inside. He wasn’t paying
attention to Tim, but he should have been.

Outside, they climbed back into the Suburban
and began the drive, and James reminded Tim that Joe would shut off
the vehicle in a few minutes, but it would be okay.

Tim replied “Obviously,” with a small
burp.

As they approached the stone markers, Joe did
not stop to take the battery out of his phone this time. He just
cruised up, placed the vehicle in neutral, and killed the engine.
He managed to remove the battery as they drifted. It took them
about the same amount of time to get through as before, as the
slight decline of the ground helped.

Just before Joe stopped on the other side of
the markers, Tim turned to James and said, “My tummy hurts.”

James asked, “Hurts how?”

Joe stopped the Suburban and Tim quickly got
out. Joe started to protest, but Tim vomited. It was almost
impressive, how much pineapple came roaring up.

James and Joe got out to join Tim, who was
shaking.