Activated, p.12
Activated, page 12
Chan clears his throat and the softness in his gaze soon morphs into his usual business self. But underneath it, I know the truth. After hours of conversation on the phone, we understand each other in a new way. Kai’s absence still hangs between us, but we’ve promised each other to believe in his job and in him even while he’s gone.
He still uses the name that Red gave me, with my permission. In Mandarin, the “little” is not patronizing but simply implies that I’m younger than he is and that we are close enough to use friendly titles rather than professional ones.
My dad walks up, hand outstretched. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Chan.”
“Ah, Mr. Rivers. Good to see you.” Chan says, firmly gripping his hand. He glances at the bandage on his nose. “What happened?”
My dad looks at me, and back to Chan. I gulp and look away. Mr. Chan, on the other hand, touches his own nose—that I broke once—and waves his hand in the air, dismissing the question. “No need to explain.”
My face reddens.
Chan clears his throat, then glances around the room. After the superbond secured his place as the richest man in Asia for years to come, he’s been deemed a hero. More importantly, Chan knows what I can do.
Now, seeing Chan and my father by my side makes my numbers do flips. It also begins to worry me. “Did anyone see you come in?” I ask.
“No. I was escorted through a side entrance. But I can’t promise they won’t publicize my presence at the ISC Banquet.”
I nod. Chan, too, has become braver. With Dr. Ling’s new practice in Shanghai up and running, the safe house has helped countless trafficked women get back on their feet. They’ve become quite the team.
Chan turns his attention to the PSS team who are staring at him from the other side of the meeting room. “Is this the A-team you have told me so much about?” he asks.
I glance over at them and inwardly groan. Harrison is smiling wide, fidgeting, dying for an introduction. Pens, who doesn’t know we’re looking at her now, is taking selfies with Chan in the background. Felicia gives him an awkward bow that is more Korean than Chinese. Eddie is practically standing at attention as if Chan is the Chinese president. On top of that, they’re all just gawking at him like groupies at a rockstar. “Yep. That’s them.”
Chan gets down to business. “What do I need to know?”
“A lot. First off, I should warn you—I’ve got a new name. You have to call me Mila this week.”
“Why am I not surprised?” he grunts and turns to Harrison who is bouncing up to him like a kid approaching Superman.
“Sir, it’s an honor to meet you. You’re a powerhouse in the business world and it was incredible what you did with Asia Bank and the economy. You’re a rock star. I mean, you’re brilliant.”
“Thank you,” Chan says, modestly. “Nice to meet you.”
“I know your son, Kai, too,” Harrison continues. “When he came to Seattle, he taught me a little kung fu.” Harrison beams, punching his hands in the air.
“Did he? That’s nice.” Chan’s face falls slightly. I understand his thoughts. Always missing Kai, always wondering if he’s alive. Chan gives his attention to Ms. T. “You must be Ms. Taylor. Jiuyang, xinghui, a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise. Thank you for coming. Please have a seat. We were just about to begin.” Ms. T moves to the head of the table, calling to the team. “Security please. We’re on a clock.”
Eddie sweeps the room with Scatter—a new tech that throws off any electrical frequency that isn’t ours. Thanks to my strange ability, we came up with new ways to scatter frequencies like throwing a pile of gravel into the water—the ultimate bug scrambler. In the Bardo when I asked Noble how he scrambled his tech, it all came down to frequencies. I figured out how to create my own a few weeks after getting my gift back.
“We’re clean.” Eddie sits.
Agent Ramos catches my eye. “As you know, we’re investigating the possibility that the recent blackouts and the satellites going offline aren’t just a result of geomagnetic storms.” He pauses. “But we have no proof. What we do know is that a whole bunch of players who are on our radar are in Helsinki now and will be inside the ISC Banquet—including former members of organized crime syndicates. Whatever is going on, the ISC seems to be in the middle of it.” His eyes narrow on me. “Our first goal is to ensure the safety and success of the ISC launch, which is in two days. Our second goal is to root out what or who is behind the blackouts.”
“So what’s the game plan for the banquet?” I ask.
“Our two strongest leads lie with Scale Tech CEO, Dr. Juho Salonen and Palermo Ricci. Dr. Salonen helped build the ISC Super Satellite, then stepped away from the public because of his wife’s coma. Mr. Ricci has been aggressively trying to take control of Scale Tech. Palermo Ricci has a track record of ruthless corporate takeovers. If companies don’t want to work with him, he buries them financially.”
Harrison and I exchange glances.
“If Palermo has an interest in this launch beyond advancing science for the good of humanity, we need to know why,” Agent Ramos sighs. “All cards on the table, there are billions of dollars at stake and if the mafia is involved, they’ll do whatever it takes for the opportunity to cash in. We have intel that Palermo is arranging a private meeting tomorrow morning with some of the biggest players at the banquet. Only very special, very powerful people get invited into Palermo’s meetings. We don’t have any names. This may be our one chance to uncover his web and any potential threats. Unfortunately, our guys have been unsuccessful at getting a foot in the door. Now that we know you two are here,” he motions to Chan and my dad, “we may have a chance of getting inside that meeting. But it’s still risky.”
My father scratches his chin as he once did in meetings. But Chan considers the situation with a straight face. He casts a sideways glance at me. “As Jo’s former boss, I learned a valuable lesson. Life is too short not to do all we can to help people.” He locks eyes with Agent Ramos. “I can get into the meeting.” Chan’s eyes dart to me again. “I’ve also come prepared. After speaking with my advisor, I had a sudden urge to invest in Scale Tech and several other space and tele-communication companies. I’ve seen enough greed to know what it looks like. With these people, only money will talk.”
Chan’s words fill me with pride. If only Kai could hear him talk like this. Chan is living proof that if we keep our feet planted on a path that honors truth, and keep doing what we know is right, the world can actually change.
And I’m glad he got my message about the stocks—another small backup plan.
My dad’s face tightens. “I’m with Chan. I’ll do what I can.”
“You’re both forgetting that I will be in the room. You guys are my cover. I don’t want you getting too involved,” I say. “And if I can find Cesare Di Susa, he just may have the information we need.”
“Ok,” Agent Ramos says, checking his watch. “I know you’re all working together, but I advise you to enter the banquet and operate separately.” He looks primarily at me.
Chan rises from his chair, his eye on the door. Harrison moves in quickly. “Not so fast, Mr. Chan. We have to tech you up!”
Chapter 22
EDDIE STRIDES OVER to Chan. “Our team is going to outfit you with the most sophisticated surveillance tech on the planet. There is almost zero chance that anyone will be able to detect what we’re putting in you.”
“In me?” Chan asks, horrified. “I thought I’d be wearing a wire or something.”
“That’s old school. No one does that anymore,” Eddie says. “This is micro-tech that will fit into your ear and eyes. It blends with the human body temperature and the frequency coming from you. It’s nearly impossible to detect, unless you’re Jo.”
Chan glances up at Eddie with a look of utter amazement but shoots a concerned glance at me.
“It’s totally safe,” I confirm. “You won’t even know it’s there. It’s mostly just for our team to follow what you’re seeing and hearing. If you don’t mind.”
“Hao.” He sits up straighter. “Eh. I’ve agreed to this, so go ahead.” As they fiddle with the tech, Chan leans over to my dad, who is getting the same treatment. “Never thought I’d see the day where I go undercover. Huo dao lao, xue dao lao. Live until you’re old, learn until you’re old. Who says old dogs can’t learn new tricks?” He laughs softly. “What would Kai say if he saw me now?” He shakes his head at me.
My dad raises his eyebrows at Chan. “Hey. I’m in the same boat, Chan. There’s always room for firsts. Jo claims we’re her cover, that she’ll do all the work. What do you think? Can we believe her?”
“Believe her? Not sure. Do I trust her?” He looks over at me. “Yes.”
“Trusting me will cost you,” I say back with a sly smile.
“It already has. I’ve been trading stocks all night because of one of your theories.”
“Then let’s hope my intuition is right. You might even make a buck or two in the end, and you can reserve your first trip to space.”
He laughs. “Hao de. I expected no less.” He sits up straight, that solid determination pulsing out of him. “With you, I never know what I’m going to get. I once obtained a global shipping company, and now space technology and satellites.” He grows serious for a moment. “It’s ok even if I lose money, Little Phoenix. I have peace.”
Once Chan is teched-up, he checks his watch then straightens and becomes the hard-hitting businessman I worked for in Shanghai. The one who always knows exactly what he is doing. The one his son watched and got his confidence from. “Ready, Jason and Mila?”
We both nod.
Every path has led me here. To Finland and this crisis. To where Noble is hiding. Now it’s time to find out why.
Finally, we’re all ready. I feel as if I’ve stepped into an alternate universe as I look at the two men in front of me. I can’t believe it—I’m going undercover with Chan Huang Long and my dad.
Chapter 23
BANQUET HALL, THE LION BLOCK, HELSINKI
TIME TO MINGLE with the mafia.
I apply bold red to my lips to match my red gown before walking down the corridor, ever aware of the tech vibrating with unseen frequencies off my body. At the entrance, a host in black attire opens the door, and I enter.
The opulent banquet hall is nothing short of magic. Elaborately decorated tables are lined with Finnish delicacies. Baltic herring seasoned with mustard. Smoked pike with Finnish malt bread and fresh pickled cucumbers. Plates of reindeer and salmon and fancy cheeses with cloudberries.
On another table there are fine wines in abundance. Men in tuxedos clink gold-rimmed glasses with women in evening gowns standing around tall cocktail tables. Miniature ice sculptures decorate every table, but the most impressive of all are the enormous ice sculptures chiseled into rockets and satellites adorning the dinner section of the spacious hall.
My calculations produce a detailed accounting of the room—twelve security cameras sweep the room from the ceiling, 8 exits, 16 guards, 25 tables, 120 people and 108 pathways. Nineteen new pairs of feet shuffle through the door, and my numbers recalibrate.
At the creak of a door, the air shifts. My body suddenly feels hot and thirsty, like I’ve been lost in the desert and parched for months. As if I’m near water but I’m not allowed to drink. The phantom frequency is here. I filter out everything around me and try to capture the equation that is faster than light. But as usual, it boomerangs through the room, then vanishes before I can blink.
With the guest list in my head, I study the room and divide everyone into three categories: experts from space agencies around the world, elite businessmen and investors, and finally, the slimeballs who move around the room like sharks. My gift highlights them with surprising ease. I’m not sure if that’s something I should be proud of or not.
My job should be easy. All I need to do is ask a few slimeballs if they know anything about Cesare, while Chan and my dad schmooze with Mr. Ricci and Dr. Salonen. I haven’t seen Palermo Ricci yet, but the crowd is thicker toward the back of the room, and clustered in different corners. I spot a man oozing with jitters and suspicion, easy prey. I’m about to make my move when a woman chatting behind me drops two words that steal my attention: NASA Tipper.
I turn. Standing by the drink table is Dr. Kaisa Ranta, a Finnish scientist I recognize from the guest list who is also on the ISC committee. I decide to approach non-mafia first. I wander over and introduce myself to the group of ladies.
“Dr. Ranta,” I say, in a flimsy Italian accent. “I’m Mila Avola. I’m a huge fan of your work.”
“Thank you, Ms. Avola. Welcome to Helsinki.” Her Finnish accent is soft and disarming. “And what do you do?”
“I’m an optical engineer, working in both the US and China.” I’m careful not to flinch at my own words. Of course, I’m not an expert but thanks to researching Noble’s code I may have enough knowledge to bluff my way through this banquet. “I heard you mention the NASA Tipper. Is everyone here familiar with him?”
“Of course. Who isn’t? I’m guessing everyone in this room has offered him jobs, money, who knows what else?” She leans in as if to share a secret. “I don’t mean to boast, but the NASA Tipper has shared quite a few revolutionary tips with Finland’s own Scale Tech. We must be a favorite of his. It would be a pity to find out he’s a criminal.” She greets people left and right as they pass. I fight a frown. To her, Noble is just a novelty.
“He’s more enigma than criminal,” I say using my fake accent. I’m about to ask when they last heard from him when Harrison whispers in my ear. “Stop talking about Noble and find Cesare. We’re leaving now for the lecture. Meet you there.”
“Nice meeting you. Excuse me for a moment.”
I navigate the crowd like a mathematical dance, eavesdropping and assessing until I’m close to five of the slimeballs in fancy suits and my gift singles out one of them.
Grabbing a flute of sparkling water, I wander over to one of them and introduce myself in a sickly sweet voice that Madame would approve of. “And you are?”
The man gives me a stern three-second examination from head to toe, then replies. “Matteo Bianco.” He flinches, his pupils also dilate. He’s lying. That’s not his real name, so I’ll just cut to the chase.
“Ah, Italiano? Just my luck, you’re Italian,” I say, eager to drop my bait and see his response. “Are you acquainted with Cesare di Susa by any chance? I’ve been looking for him. He’s an old friend.”
The man’s face pales like a ghost has walked into the room. Then he shakes his head nervously. “The name doesn’t ring a bell. Scusa.” He scurries to another part of the room. This is why I’m glad numbers are on my side. There’s a 98% chance he knows exactly who Cesare is and his unwillingness to admit it strengthens our theory.
I approach slimeball number two, who has remarkably green eyes, and initiate several minutes of excruciating small talk on the Italian Space Agency. He too is bluffing his way through this night. So not wasting another minute, I drop the name. “Cesare Di Susa must be around here somewhere. He’s very involved with Scale Tech, and I’m very interested in speaking with him.”
The green-eyed man’s body goes rigid, his eyes narrow, a flicker of discomfort inside them. “Sounds like someone I’d like to meet too,” he growls. “Let me know if you find him.” My numbers go crazy as he walks away. He, too, knows exactly who Cesare is. If my calculations are correct, he hasn’t seen him possibly for years, but he wants to. He joins the other men, and whatever he says makes them turn their attention to me. Their hounding eyes send shivers down my back. But my calculations are clear—they won’t do anything while I’m in this room; and asking the rest of them isn’t worth my time. No one will talk. Which means, Palermo Ricci is my next option.
Using K2, I scan nametags and faces as I walk around the room. K2 spouts off information about each guest, including degrees in astrophysics, aerospace dynamics, optical physics, sonic-tech, and engineering of every sort. I’ve never seen so many geniuses in one room. Conversations about the Super Satellite Launch and blackouts abound.
I’m whirring with the desire to absorb everything. If Noble chose not to hide under a rock, he could be here now in this room. Not only would he fit in perfectly, he’d blow everyone away with what he’s discovered.
Finally, I head back to Dr. Ranta for some help. “Are you associated with anyone who works for Scale Tech? Or Palermo Ricci, perhaps?” I ask her.
“Why, yes,” she says, picking up on my hint. “There are several people here who used to work for both.”
Dr. Ranta leads me to an Asian woman in a form-fitting black and gold gown. “Dr. Hitomi, this is Ms. Avola, an expert in optics. Dr. Hitomi used to work for Scale Tech.”
The Japanese engineer greets me. “Hello. How can I help you?”
“My associates and I are very interested in Scale Tech’s future projects,” I say. I would name drop Cesare in this conversation, but I can already tell it’s a dead end. Every number tells me she knows nothing. I ask a few polite questions about Scale Tech and she gives me cookie-cutter answers. What I really need is an introduction to Mr. Ricci.
While she talks, a man in the far back corner catches my attention. His back is facing me and he’s surrounded with too many people for my numbers to assess him properly, but frequencies shoot like arrows from him in a way I’ve never seen before. Is he also loaded up with tech that’s emitting intense electrical signals?
I check K2—there’s not much time before I have to sneak out to the lecture. I turn to Dr. Hitomi and bluntly ask, “Is Palermo Ricci here? If so, I’d love an introduction.”
Ms. T told me to stay away from Palermo, but in every crisis, there’s an opportunity. My numbers led me here for a reason. I won’t make the same mistake I did in Geneva.
Dr. Hitomi frowns. “I just heard that Mr. Ricci won’t arrive until the dinner segment of the banquet.” I almost admit defeat until her face brightens. “But you’re in luck. Mr. Ricci’s assistant is right over there.” She points to the man surrounded by people. Frequencies are beaming from him.
