Perfect Match (36 page)

Zhi said, “Ah, a Chinese abacus.” He grinned. “You know how
to work Chinese abacus?”

“This is not a Chinese abacus. This is—”

“Sure it is. Abacus made by Chinese centuries ago.” He
smiled triumphantly.

Madison said, “This is an American-made abacus…made for me
by a seventy-five year old craftsman, Willard Stanley, who lives in Eagle
Mountain, North Carolina.” She pointed to the flat metal label attached to the
wooden frame reading “Made in America by….” “It’s true the Chinese made great
use of the abacus, but the Chinese did not invent the abacus. Check your
history facts and you’ll find an early account of an abacus-type device dating
as far back as 4500 B.C. in Sumer, what is now considered modern Iraq.”

Madison departed from the history of the abacus and got down
to the business at hand, recovering two million dollars. She propped the
11-inch by 9-inch abacus on the edge of a blank pad of paper. The wooden frame
was made of lightly stained oak. Inside the frame were two horizontal rows of
nine vertical rods running through an assortment of brightly painted beads.
Depending upon the position of the various beads, arithmetic functions could be
carried out.

Madison had learned to use the abacus during the past three
weeks, and had spent hours honing her skills. Zhi and Jia were focused on
Madison’s fingers poised over the device.

“As I complete each calculation, feel free to write the
numbers down on paper or input them into your China-made Tablets. Either way
should work for you.” She smiled.

Madison began slowly by sliding an assortment of beads to
represent the amount of three million dollars. “That is the amount Fallington
has paid your company for the products in question. The amount is verified by
your own invoices.” Madison waited for head nods and verbal affirmation. Zhi
gave it grudgingly.

For the next several minutes, Madison’s red-polished fingers
caressed the beads back and forth on their vertical rods, taking time to
explain and state the resultant amounts. She waited for the two of them to
digest and input the figures into their electronic ware.

Her fingers were a blur as the colored beads lightly clicked
through the arithmetic functions, including the use of decimals and
percentages. After each calculation, Madison waited for them to catch up with
the process.

After her last computation she rested her hands on the
table. “Even on an American-made abacus, the figures don’t lie. We’ve spent
millions with your company; we’ve had a true loss of 2.5 million from this
trash on the table. I’m willing to leave 500,000 dollars on the table as a good
will gesture to you, but I intend to recoup two million dollars today before I
leave Hong Kong.” There was a biting edge in her voice.

Zhi shook his head as if to scold a child that had taken too
many cookies from the cookie jar. “We not return money. When you buy something
there is always risk.” He shrugged. “That’s business. Surely you not so…so…” he
looked at Jia.

She said, “Naïve.”

“Yes, yes, naïve to believe we return money because you
couldn’t keep customers happy.” He chuckled.

Madison said, “Glad you brought up the happy factor. A
recent study completed by a group of college students found that one hundred
and sixty percent of the customers that received your products were unhappy.”

“No, no, that figure not correct. You can’t have number
greater than one hundred percent.”

“Yes you can. Here’s how that study worked. Parents and
children, with happy faces, drove into fast-food parking lots. The study found
that eighty percent of the children were unhappy with their junky plastic toy
or action hero, as they were leaving. They were squalling their heads off
because they didn’t like the color choice, or it broke, or the restaurant was
out of their particular action hero, or whatever.

“Therefore eighty percent of the parents were also unhappy.
When kids are unhappy, parents are too. That’s like doubling the impact.”
Madison smiled. “Parents are discovering that a contaminated piece of plastic
in a bag with a greasy burger does not make for a happy meal experience.”

Silence reigned.

Zhi nodded quickly. “Clever story, but fact remains
Americans love our products. They keep buying, and buying. Most of clothes you
wear today are made in China, even your sexy underwear.” A lecherous grin
exposed his crooked teeth.

“I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Jia dipped her head, trying to conceal her smile with her
small hand.

Madison continued, “You will not find any clothes on this
side of the table made in China.”

Zhi wasn’t sure what to say after Madison’s brazen remark
about not wearing underwear. He was beginning to feel dogged and hunted by Madison,
regardless of his approach. His anger was roiling. His stress spiked each time
he realized the predicament he was in between an unhappy, unpredictable
American woman, and the authorities he must report to.

“If you don’t buy from the great nation of China, where you
going to buy? Surely you can figure out the flow of trade is in our favor.” His
face grew smug, as he shrugged, and then crossed his arms, and glared at her.

She leaned forward in her seat, her Mexican eyes riveted on
him. “If you walk away from any of these demands, all business with your
company stops. We’ve already found replacement manufacturers for ninety percent
of the products we’ve been purchasing from you. The other ten percent we will
discontinue or find different replacements or a different market. Those plans
are ready to go. That’s just the first step. I’ll let you guess about the rest
of it.” She held his stare, unflinching.

He blinked. “Suppose I give you some time to think. I
understand you eager to return home to very sick daughter. Perhaps on another
trip to Hong Kong we can talk again?”

Madison’s right hand smacked the table. Zhi’s side of the
tabled jumped in unison. “My daughter doesn’t have any more to do with these
negotiations than your wife. Today, Zhi! Today you will decide. Two million
dollars. Today!”

Caught off guard again by the loose cannon, he cleared his
throat. “I think our team will spend some time in our friendly room.” He
thumbed back at their caucus room. His team got up to leave.

“Take your time. Sundown isn’t for another nine hours.”

Once through the door, screaming, shrill voices could be
heard. Madison smiled and nodded at Zhong. He pulled out his phone, hit a speed
dial, and waited. When there was a pickup he hit one digit, and then clicked
off.

A few blocks from the hotel, on a back street, a dirty,
nondescript van pulled away from the curb. The fading Chinese markings on the
truck stated Premier Carpet Cleaning.

When the van arrived at the Backbranch Hotel, six sweaty,
brawny men got out to unload at the back entrance.

The shrill screaming continued in the ‘friendly room’ for
several minutes. Jia said, “Zhi you’ve got to calm down. We need to make a
decision.”

Their two thugs were crowded near the door, while Zhi and
Jia talked in the far corner. Zhi’s voice was hoarse.

“I’m going to tell this loose woman—”

“Cannon,” interrupted Jia.

“No, no, you listen to me. Any woman not wearing underwear
is a loose woman.”

Jia smiled, “I don’t wear underwear, when I’m with you.”

Zhi snapped, “That different.” He continued, “I can’t do
what she wants. The authorities will end everything for me. I’m going to tell
her ‘no’ to all of her demands. What she going to do? Huh, what she do? She
nothing but loudmouth nagging woman, but no power to back up her threats.”

Jia paced as she thought, finally turning, and saying, “Her
figures are correct. Her reasoning is in order.”

Disbelief flashed from his face. “You’re agreeing with her?
Are you betraying me?” Shrillness crept back into his voice.

She gave him a sharp look. “You know me better than that.
I’m trying to think ahead of the authorities. How will they see all of this?”
She paced again. “I believe I can sell them on the idea that two million
dollars is a lot less costly than the trouble she is capable of stirring up. I think
I can present a report to the authorities that will make you the hero…make it
look like you saved the day from another crazy American…chalk it up to the cost
of doing business in the international markets.”

“I don’t like it. She’s inexperienced woman.”

Jia snapped, “Yes, but she’s got a powerful voice, and one
that’s believable. Our intelligence picked up that she’s quickly become popular
with the business community. She’s a much-in-demand speaker, and well read. She
could be very persuasive. Even you were impressed with videos of her TV
performances.”

There was a knock at the side door of their room that led
into the hotel hallway. One of their guards answered. A sweaty Chinese guy
shoved a clip board under his nose, and said, “Delivery from authorities for
Zhi Wang. Sign.” The guard signed, before thinking. The sweaty guys brought
three wooden crates, with rope handles on each end into the room, and quickly
disappeared.

Zhi, concerned that something had arrived from the
authorities, walked closer to the boxes labeled CARPETS, that were about six
feet long and two feet square. The guard handed him a small package that the
delivery man had given him upon signing.

Zhi, dumbfounded, opened the large bubble pack envelope. A
note surrounded a DVD. The note read: “This is what I would have encountered in
the original hotel reserved for me and my assistants. Is this typical of
Chinese hospitality? Watch the DVD. I think it will help with your decisions.
Be aware that copies are ready to be released at the slightest threat or
retaliation.” It was signed with a large “M” in blazing red ink.

Growling curse words spewed from his dry mouth, as Jia
powered up her computer. The video played, showing three hooded persons picking
the hotel door to the original hotel suite reserved for Madison. The video
showed them in the room being subdued by three other hooded persons. Later the
three break-in men appeared on camera without hoods, and with some
“encouragement” had confessed fully to their assignment, and named Zhi Wang as
being behind everything.

Jia inhaled short breaths. Zhi’s shoulders slumped. Finally
she said, “These must be our missing operators.” She pointed to the three
crates on the floor.

Zhi cautiously said, “Are they dead?” Then he snapped his
fingers at the two guards. “Open the latch.”

As they opened the boxes, they found three terrified Chinese
men, bound, with mouths sealed, but with small oxygen tanks and tubing for
breathing. Two of them had soiled their pants. Zhi and Jia stepped back from
the odor.

He snapped at the guards. “Leave them in the boxes. Latch
the lids, and get them out of the hotel, and the two of you don’t come back
either.” The bound men struggled, trying to get free, as the lids were being
closed. The two guards muscled the first box down the hall.

He shook his head, then looking at the door that led back to
the negotiating room, he said quietly, “This lunatic woman will stop at
nothing.” He looked at Jia. His voice weak. “Maybe we’d better go with your
idea. Will we be able to get access to the money she wants?” He pulled out a
small handkerchief and wiped his brow.

She nodded, “I can handle it.”

As Zhi opened the door and re-entered the negotiating room,
Madison was draining the last couple of swallows from an amber bottle labeled
root beer. Zhi stopped in his tracks.

Madison, as she lowered the bottle, placing it on the table
in front of her, said, “Sorry, didn’t expect you back so soon.” Madison and her
team had grabbed the drinks from the in-room hotel convenience bar. The amber
bottles stood like statues on the table. She had been briefed by Cold Steel
Security that the Chinese company had probably gathered all kinds of
intelligence on her, including any police reports. She and Cold Steel had gone
through dozens of scenarios that could be used during her trip. Zhong had come
up with the idea of using the bottles as a last minute idea to drive home the
validity of any police report Zhi and Jia might have seen.

Zhi and Jia were still standing, staring at the bottles,
with mouths open.

Madison gestured. “Sit. Let’s wrap up our business.”

They took their seats, cautiously eyeing the bottles. Jia
opened her computer.

Madison asked, “Were your carpets cleaned to your
satisfaction?”

Zhi said, “I have explanation for everything.”

“I believe the DVD explained it better.”

Madison moved a piece of paper toward Jia. “This is a
special non-reversible secure bank account setup especially for your transfer.
This is a secure code number. It is not the real number of our bank account.
This secure code number will allow one transmission, and then it will
automatically shut down. Make sure you get it right the first time.” She
paused. “This is the agreement we discussed. I expect both of you to sign it
before you setup your transmission.”

They both signed without hesitation. Zhi knowing he’d signed
his death warrant, and Jia already thinking how she would separate herself from
him.

Jia signed on to their company website, and Madison’s right
hand came to rest around the bottle. Zhi’s heart was having a hard time
beating, as he watched her fingers lift and flex around the bottle.

“If your transmission is correctly received, Mee will get a
confirmation on her device.”

Jia tapped away on her computer. Zhi sat frozen watching the
amber bottle.

Finally Mee gave a nod to Madison, and closed her device.
Money mission accomplished.

“Before the two of you leave, I have something for you.”
Madison got up, and walked around to their side of the table. She carried two
small white boxes. Zhi and Jia stood side by side not knowing what to expect.