ReWire A Thriller
Chapter 9
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Hong Lee made herself a promise. She would help her man do whatever needed to be done. Those jhew lun dou tried to kill her man’s sister! His heart had needed to be broken again and again until it was open enough to let her in. Now it was open, and she was ready and he was ready and now this. When she was a teenager and the fortune-teller said she would fall in love and marry a gwai lo later in life she had nearly slapped the bitch.
As a dutiful granddaughter, Lee had gone to school in Switzerland and then gone to the States, to Stanford. When grandfather wanted her to intern at a small private firm rather than a large international trading company, she had been prepared to argue and argue fiercely. She had been so disappointed with the first two she had interviewed. Then she had walked into DealMaker’s old offices on Powell Street. The men and women there were like warriors from another era. At the same time, they had an astonishing understanding of technology as a tool.
She hadn’t even met Jack McDonald until after she had worked there for three months. She heard war stories and tall tales of his exploits. She had looked at his pictures on the web and in the company literature. At first she had doubted the veracity of many of the tales. Then she heard him described by a competitor as “virtuous.” Lee had hid behind cap and sunglasses to attend one of his Judo tournaments. Jack truly was a warrior and so very sad and such a man.
Lee still remembered hearing his voice behind her and turning to meet his eyes in the conference room at the old offices on Powell. It had taken every ounce of will she had not to leap on him. She knew she had blushed. The fortune-teller was right. Then she found out he was smitten with that gold-digging bitch. She pondered long and hard about what to do to break them up. She thought for moments about having one of grandfather’s assassins visit the woman in the night. But, she knew Jack would find out and hate her. She also knew he was still too broken and it would take more pain for him to gather the pieces together and be whole and ready for her. So she waited.
The limo driver locked up his brakes. Lee’s seatbelt kept her safely in place as she watched the Palomino Blackwing pencil roll off her notepad onto the floor. The intercom buzzed. “Excuse me, Ma’am. There has been an accident and we are simply not going to make your flight. I do apologize. What would you like me to do?”
“Dew ne loh mah!” Hong Lee, scion of one of the wealthiest families in Hong Kong, graduate of the finest Swiss boarding schools and near the top of her class in Stanford’s MBA program, cussed like a drunken sailor and thought, I will help him find and kill these sons-of-bitches. How dare they!
Into the intercom, she said: “You certainly do not have any control over the traffic. Please take me back to the hotel.” She held her hand, palm down, in the air over where she believed the pencil to be, closed her eyes and breathed in and out. With her exhale, the pencil rose through the air and pressed against her open palm. She closed her hand and opened her eyes, breathing in again and thought.
I am going to personally kill at least one of the scum who tried to kill my man’s sister.
She turned her yellow legal pad to a new page and wrote at the top:
What can I do to help?
- Emotional support
- Physical support
- Financial help
- Intelligence/information
- Influence
- People