part0041

Ming set up the small table in the tiny walled garden on the roof of the Qinlao building. The gardeners had done a wonderful job turning a few square meters of rooftop into an island of tranquility. In this sanctuary of ivy-covered brick and lush greenery, she found a moment of peace. The fountain in the corner burbled happily, almost drowning out the aircar traffic flashing overhead.

Ming dismissed the staff to set the table by herself. Everything had to be perfect for Sying’s arrival.

She smoothed the thick linen tablecloth across the square meter of polished oak and positioned the broad umbrella so that it blocked the sun. She placed two identical teapots on the table and two mismatched cups. While the water boiled, she walked the perimeter of the garden, reveling in the bright sunshine.

Now that the Taulke Geo-Array was online, it was sunny every day in Shanghai, with clear blue skies. When needed, an appropriate amount of rain was metered onto the city during the nighttime hours.

Tony had wasted no time after the unfortunate death of his father making sure he cemented the legacy of the Taulke family name in deeds and not just words. The satellite network, manufactured by Qinlao, had been put into orbit within days and positioned as a weather-management array. With Elise Kisaan and her cryptokey, the Syndicate Corporation was able to micromanage the weather anywhere on the planet.

Ming ran her fingers across the silky leaves of a deep purple iris. The United Nations had not taken lightly to General Graves and Corazon Santos not being placed on the council, but once Tony explained how the new council was going to operate, they said they understood. Ming had not been in that meeting, but she knew how persuasive Tony Taulke could be when the situation called for it.

She cupped a lovely black-eyed Susan flower in her hands. It was a moot point anyway. No one had seen either General Graves or Corazon Santos—or the Kisaan child—since the attack on Olympus Station. In fact, Ming herself had been the last one to see them. She could revisit the footage whenever she wanted if she engaged Echo.

It had been just a fleeting glimpse, but it told her all she needed to know. The general with Cora’s body in one arm and a bundle of blood-spotted blankets in the other. Echo calculated the amount of blood in the hallway outside the escape pod and concluded with seventy-eight percent certainty that Corazon Santos was dead.

Ming was sure of one thing: Graves had held onto both woman and child as if his life depended on it. As if they were both still alive. That was what she remembered most about that split-second scene. Graves had cared. It showed in the set of his shoulders, the way one arm gently tucked the baby against his side and the other gripped Cora as if he would never let her go.

Ming tilted her face to the sun. That’s all she ever really wanted. Someone who would hold her with no reservations or hidden agendas. Hold her as if they would never let go. Given the chance, Graves would have gladly taken Cora’s place.

Lily was in her thoughts now more than ever. Lily had been that kind of love for Ming, but Lily was gone.

A delicate knock at the door interrupted her errant thoughts. The door was a heavy wooden affair, scavenged from a Buddhist monastery that was in a zone now dedicated to agriculture under the SynCorp global realignment program.

Sying’s smile was brighter than the sunshine and Ming shivered as her lover’s soft lips touched her cheek. She was dressed in a loose-fitting dark blue skirt that shimmered as she stepped into the garden, a butter-yellow blouse of the same material, and topped off with a wide-brimmed hat that made her look smart and sexy at the same time.

“Oh, Ming, this is lovely!” she exclaimed. Ming took her arm as they made their way slowly around the tiny garden and she named each of the plants. Sying played with her fingers as they stepped from plant to plant until they finished at the linen-clad table.

“Tea?” Sying said. “How sweet of you.” She lifted one of the pots and sniffed. “Pu’er? Oh, Ming, that’s my favorite!”

“I know.” Ming poured hot water into both pots and replaced the lids, then waved Sying to her seat. She let Sying chatter as the tea steeped, happy to listen to her husky tones, the words meant only for her, laden with meaning and affection.

When she poured the tea, Sying studied her through narrowed eyes. “You have something you want to tell me,” she said. “No, wait! Something you want to ask me. That’s it, isn’t it? My answer is yes.”

Ming smiled at her, willing away all the feelings that threatened to break through. “You haven’t heard the question yet, Sying dear.”

The older woman’s hand snaked across the table and found Ming’s. Her fingers were strong and soft and so inviting. Ming drew back and placed a packet of papers on the white linen tablecloth. She laid a fountain pen across the top.

Sying giggled. “Another surprise from Marcus, I see. Who else uses paper contracts these days?”

Sying noticed her tone. Her dark eyes studied Ming’s face. “What’s gotten into you?” She flipped up the top page and her expression changed.

“I don’t understand,” she said after scanning the page and flipping to the next. “This is an adoption agreement for Ruben.”

Ming nodded. “In the event of your death or incarceration, Ruben will become my ward.”

“I see.” Sying flipped the pages back and rested the fountain pen on the stack of papers. She reached for her teacup, but Ming stopped her.

Sying’s hand shook ever so slightly as she lowered the cup. The light drained from her face. “How long have you known?”

Ming gave her a rueful smirk. “Not long enough to save my aunt’s life, unfortunately.”

For a long time, Sying said nothing. Ming was content to let the silence lengthen. Time was on her side.

“You mean you didn’t expect to have feelings for me. The same kind of feelings you had for my father? How long before you would have me removed?”

Her hand found Ming’s again, but the magic of her touch was gone. “It’s not like that, Ming. Together—you and I—we’re unstoppable. You … are so much more than I expected.” Her tone took on a pleading quality, a wheedling that grated on Ming’s senses.

“And you are so much less than I expected,” Ming replied. “All your talk of queens and pawns and power. I idolized you. I would have died for you—gladly. And yet that meant nothing to you. You used me.”

“Used you?” It was Sying’s turn to draw back. “I made you. I molded you into a strong, confident woman. I gave you wisdom and guidance and the comfort of my bed. And this is how you repay me?” Sying got to her feet.

“Sit. Down.” Ming’s voice cracked like a whip. Sying froze. For a second, Ming wasn’t sure Sying would follow her orders, but she reseated herself.

“I sense a negotiation in the offing, Ming dear.” Her face was like carved alabaster, her eyes black ice.

Ming resisted the urge to lunge across the table and snap her neck. Until this moment, Ming had found it hard not to still love Sying. But now, she had to hold herself back from ripping her apart. Her moral decline, what Ming had let herself become, had started when this woman killed her father. Ming could see the trail of death and destruction she had wrought under this woman’s control and it sickened her.

When Ming spoke again, her voice was like glass. “The Shanghai police are in the lobby with a warrant for your arrest for the murder of Jie Qinlao and Xi Qinlao, my father and my aunt.”

“That cup contains the same poison you used to murder Auntie Xi. The dose is much larger than what you gave her. The poor woman dosed herself for hours before she died. This dose will kill you instantly.”

“There will be a scandal,” Sying said. “Your part in all this, all your weaknesses and failings, will come to light. Everyone will see you for who you are.”

“You’re scared to kill me yourself,” Sying sneered, her face twisted with hate. “Don’t you want the satisfaction of killing me to make yourself feel stronger?” She leaned across the table, baring her neck. “Kill me. Break my neck. You pathetic, weak girl.”

For what seemed like an eternity, Ming fought with Echo in her head. She did want to kill Sying with her bare hands, feel the separation of her vertebrae under her fingers…

Sying took the teacup with both hands and drank the entire contents in one gulp. The poison acted swiftly. She slumped in her chair, but gracefully, as if determined to be beautiful even in death.

Ming sat still, feeling the gentle breeze on her cheek, the sunshine on her face, the emptiness in her heart. Tears would come later, maybe even regrets, but she had avenged her family the only way she knew how.

Her hand was steady when she reached out and plucked the papers from under Sying’s lifeless hand. She flipped to the last page and forged the dead woman’s signature.