have the very distinct feeling that you and I are about to embark on a long and mutually profitable relationship, the very foundation of which will be nothing less than absolute trust and respect.”
Alexei gave the doctor a nod, then set his drink down beside the ashtray and stood. “In that case, I won’t take up any more of your time.”
Oliveira did not stand up along with his guest. “Which is why,” he continued, “I’d like you to come back and see me again very soon. And when you do, there’s something I would like you to bring me.”
Alexei brushed a few specks of ash from his pants as he looked down at the doctor. “And what might that be?”
“A little boy,” the surgeon said. He swirled the contents of his glass and smiled. “Maybe even two.”
CHAPTER SIX
Ki is in a sensory depravation chamber in the rear of an SUV. She was not sedated when she was taken from the apartment for fear that she might still be groggy during the exchange, so she was fitted with an active isolation hood before being guided through the set of inner doors and into the elevator. When the hood was removed, she found herself sitting in a fully padded compartment across from the house mom they call Ms. Cathy. Although there was no sound, she could feel that they were moving.
They are still on their way to wherever they are going. Whenever they stop, Ki waits for the double doors to open. There are no latches on the inside; where there are supposed to be handles and releases, there is only hard, smooth plastic. Ki is not bound in any way and Ms. Cathy is not armed. The house mom is holding a canister of cool water from which she periodically encourages Ki to drink. Neither sees any point in talking.
After a particularly long stop—well over a minute, by Ki’s count—she feels the weight of the vehicle change, then hears the muted impact of car doors. Ki reaches for the metal canister. Ms. Cathy hesitates, then concedes. Ki finishes the contents but does not hand it back. When the double doors swing apart, Ki sees four well-dressed men, one of whom is the man she knows only as “the king.” It is dark outside, but the area is illuminated from above by floodlights. The men’s hair is being blown—especially the king’s long blond curls—and their suits ripple in the wind. The warmth inside the vehicle is displaced by the cold outside air.
“Come on,” the king says to Ki. “Leave that here.”
He extends his hand and waits for the canister, but Ki does not comply. She looks at all four of the men waiting outside the vehicle, and then at Ms. Cathy. Ms. Cathy smiles in a way that Ki cannot interpret—perhaps just reflexively. She reaches for Ki’s hand, and Ki allows the canister to be taken.
“Everyone stays here,” the king says. “They don’t want anyone else on board.”
When Ki steps down, she sees that they are on a runway beside a massive delta-wing jet. They are roughly aligned with the nose, which makes both wings visible. Each is painted a glossy black, and the fuselage forms a long, gold stripe down the center of the triangular supersonic design. The words “PEARL KNIGHT” are printed in black above the windows.
“Don’t wait up,” the king tells his men with a grin that shows the gap in his teeth.
Ki is simply and plainly dressed in a pair of white shorts, a tight, pink cotton top with ruffles, and small white tennis shoes. By the time they reach the boarding ramp, her arms are crossed and she is shivering. There is a man at the base of the stairs who watches with his hands clasped in front of him. He motions with his head for them to ascend, and the king lets Ki go first. They are greeted just inside the plane by another man in a suit and oversized tinted glasses.
“We’re in a bit of a hurry,” the guard says. “We need to wrap this up as quickly as possible.”
The king is adjusting his coat and straightening his tie. He uses his fingers to brush back his hair. “That works for
Alexei gave the doctor a nod, then set his drink down beside the ashtray and stood. “In that case, I won’t take up any more of your time.”
Oliveira did not stand up along with his guest. “Which is why,” he continued, “I’d like you to come back and see me again very soon. And when you do, there’s something I would like you to bring me.”
Alexei brushed a few specks of ash from his pants as he looked down at the doctor. “And what might that be?”
“A little boy,” the surgeon said. He swirled the contents of his glass and smiled. “Maybe even two.”
CHAPTER SIX
Ki is in a sensory depravation chamber in the rear of an SUV. She was not sedated when she was taken from the apartment for fear that she might still be groggy during the exchange, so she was fitted with an active isolation hood before being guided through the set of inner doors and into the elevator. When the hood was removed, she found herself sitting in a fully padded compartment across from the house mom they call Ms. Cathy. Although there was no sound, she could feel that they were moving.
They are still on their way to wherever they are going. Whenever they stop, Ki waits for the double doors to open. There are no latches on the inside; where there are supposed to be handles and releases, there is only hard, smooth plastic. Ki is not bound in any way and Ms. Cathy is not armed. The house mom is holding a canister of cool water from which she periodically encourages Ki to drink. Neither sees any point in talking.
After a particularly long stop—well over a minute, by Ki’s count—she feels the weight of the vehicle change, then hears the muted impact of car doors. Ki reaches for the metal canister. Ms. Cathy hesitates, then concedes. Ki finishes the contents but does not hand it back. When the double doors swing apart, Ki sees four well-dressed men, one of whom is the man she knows only as “the king.” It is dark outside, but the area is illuminated from above by floodlights. The men’s hair is being blown—especially the king’s long blond curls—and their suits ripple in the wind. The warmth inside the vehicle is displaced by the cold outside air.
“Come on,” the king says to Ki. “Leave that here.”
He extends his hand and waits for the canister, but Ki does not comply. She looks at all four of the men waiting outside the vehicle, and then at Ms. Cathy. Ms. Cathy smiles in a way that Ki cannot interpret—perhaps just reflexively. She reaches for Ki’s hand, and Ki allows the canister to be taken.
“Everyone stays here,” the king says. “They don’t want anyone else on board.”
When Ki steps down, she sees that they are on a runway beside a massive delta-wing jet. They are roughly aligned with the nose, which makes both wings visible. Each is painted a glossy black, and the fuselage forms a long, gold stripe down the center of the triangular supersonic design. The words “PEARL KNIGHT” are printed in black above the windows.
“Don’t wait up,” the king tells his men with a grin that shows the gap in his teeth.
Ki is simply and plainly dressed in a pair of white shorts, a tight, pink cotton top with ruffles, and small white tennis shoes. By the time they reach the boarding ramp, her arms are crossed and she is shivering. There is a man at the base of the stairs who watches with his hands clasped in front of him. He motions with his head for them to ascend, and the king lets Ki go first. They are greeted just inside the plane by another man in a suit and oversized tinted glasses.
“We’re in a bit of a hurry,” the guard says. “We need to wrap this up as quickly as possible.”
The king is adjusting his coat and straightening his tie. He uses his fingers to brush back his hair. “That works for
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