I arrived fifteen minutes late to Lingyi’s apartment, and everyone was already there, making the space look even smaller than usual. Lingyi sat at her workstation, while Arun slouched on the white sofa, dark circles marking the curves beneath his eyes. Iris was swinging from one handgrip to the other on the target wall, not using her legs at all. She was dressed in cargo pants and a T-shirt, a knit cap pulled over her short hair—all in black.
Victor paced the room in long strides, both hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets, shirt cuffs folded crisply and secured with silver cufflinks. Not a hair out of place, but his eyes were red and swollen. This shocked me more than anything; it drove our loss home. Vic had no immediate family in Taiwan that we knew of, although he’d occasionally refer to cousins who lived here. Lingyi had told me she suspected Victor sent most of what he earned in his deals back to his family in the Philippines, but he never hinted as much to me. The facade of careless ease was what he projected best, but Dr. Nataraj had found ways to win even Vic over, always pulling him aside to speak to him in soft tones. Asking how he was doing. Making sure he was all right. She was the one person he talked to after Lingyi broke it off after a few months of dating. Once, when he had had one too many shots, he confessed that Dr. Nataraj reminded him of his own mother. It was the only time in the three years I had known him that he had ever mentioned his own mom.
Victor nodded at me, his tanned face drawn. He made a strong impression. No wonder he was faceless in all his transactions. You didn’t often see a striking, young Filipino man wearing sleek suits and a silk tie wherever he went in Taipei. If you saw Victor once, you’d likely remember him. He wasn’t born to blend in.
Today, he was dressed as sharp as ever but lacked the usual swagger. I nodded back at him but went immediately to sit by Arun, who looked broken. I didn’t know what to say and clasped his shoulder for a second.
“Sorry I’m late.” I took a butterfly knife from my jacket pocket and began flipping it between my fingers. “I stopped by the Longshan Temple on the way.”
No one had to ask why.
Iris jumped down from the wall onto the bamboo floor, stalking, noiseless as a cat, to sit on the rug near Lingyi’s feet. She looked pissed. But I’d learned some time ago that this seemed to be a default emotion Iris displayed in place of sadness, fear, or disappointment. Lingyi’s eyes were red-rimmed, but she thrust her chin forward, as if ready for war. “I’ve found something,” she said.
The energy in the room coalesced. I swung my blade closed, feeling its cold weight against my palm.
“I’ve finally been able to break into Mr. Wu’s Vox account.” Lingyi met each of our eyes. We all knew the significance of this. It had been much easier for her to hack into the six legislators’ accounts than it had been to crack Wu’s. “I still don’t know Wu’s true identity,” Lingyi said in a tight, tired voice. “All the billing info is bogus, leading to cash payments at various 7-Elevens across Taipei. He doesn’t keep all of his message exchanges, but I found two more sent out to legislators—that makes eight total that we know of.”
She twisted the thick cuff at her wrist, neon green and painted with bright circles. Her fingers shook a little. I straightened, my senses buzzing. If Lingyi was fazed, then we were even more screwed than I had thought.
She continued. “But I was able to find a deleted voice message. Usually these are wiped—he either knows his shit or has someone who knows how to clean up his cybertracks. Wu slipped, this once.” She drew a breath. “Arun, it’s about . . .” She swallowed. “It’s about your mom.”
Arun’s brown face blanched like he’d seen a ghost. He nodded. Lingyi’s fingers glided over her keyboard, and two men’s voices filled her living room. Wu had the rough voice of a smoker, and the man he called “boss” sounded educated and suave. His voice was oddly familiar to me. A chill slithered down my spine, despite that warm baritone. The man asked how Wu was doing, if he had anything to report. Wu coughed, then said everything was going as planned. “I’m very convincing,” Wu rasped, “when I give them all the info you provide, boss. You should see their faces when I show them on-screen with photographic evidence that I know where their mom lives, but also their niece and nephew down to their second cousin on their mother’s side.” Wu laughed. “Shit, we even know where their dog’s groomed.”
“It doesn’t take much,” Wu’s boss replied.
“No,” Wu agreed. “Never more than that and the blaster I’ve got to convince them.”
“I have another task for you,” Wu’s boss said. “The info’s sent. Make it look like an accident.” The connection was crystal clear, and we heard a muffled knock on someone’s door. “Yes?” Wu’s boss said. “Mr. Huang is here for his appointment—,” a woman’s voice interjected, clear but faint.
“Give me a minute,” Wu’s boss replied, cutting her off.
My heart was pounding so hard that I heard it in my ears. She had almost said his name—almost given away his identity. There was a crackling, indistinguishable noise in the background, then silence. “As I was saying,” Wu’s boss continued, “get rid of her.”
“Info received. Her again,” Wu said. “When do you want me to do it?”
“Tomorrow. She’s done enough damage.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Wu replied.
A chime, indicating that his boss had clicked off.
The silence was heavy after the playback ended.
“This call was made two days ago, after Dr. Nataraj’s interview had broadcasted,” Lingyi said. “It’s no coincidence.”
Arun dropped his head into his hands, his knee jittering. His grief and fury were palpable. I sat beside him, feeling useless, impotent.
“We were so close to finding out that asshole’s identity,” Iris said. She sat casually on the ground with her arms propped over raised knees, but her shoulders were tensed into a straight line. “It’s my fault. . . .”
Lingyi reached down and gripped Iris’s shoulder. “No, it isn’t. I had sent you on another task for a few days.”
Iris had been shadowing Dr. Nataraj since our meeting at the karaoke joint a few weeks ago. But nothing suspicious had happened again . . . until yesterday.
“It’s the killer’s fault, Iris,” I said. “And whoever is behind this.”
She shot me a murderous look and jerked her arm so Lingyi dropped her hand.
Lingyi colored and cleared her throat. “There’s more,” she said, and her voice cracked. “When his secretary opened his office door, there was some background noise. . . .”
I nodded. We had all heard it.
“I analyzed it using Clarity—it’s the best voice-analysis program out there.” Her eyes flicked to Victor—he must have gotten it for her. “Listen.”
There was a faint crackling, then a woman’s voice spoke, almost in a hiss. But what she said was clear: “Ladies and gentlemen, we are honored for your visit today. The next official tour of Jin Corp will begin in five minutes at four p.m. in the lobby.”