Authors: Pearl Moon
Stone, Katherine (23 page)
Maylene felt great pride for the orphan of the sea—and great fear.
Juliana's outspoken commitment to democracy was admirable but dangerous. Tonight,
in front of millions, she'd said she didn't trust the government of Beijing—the
soon-to-be government of Hong Kong—which was undoubtedly already keeping track
of its potentially rebellious citizens.
Had Juliana no memory of Tiananmen Square?
"Oh, Mother," Maylene whispered. "Please be
careful."
***
Allison didn't see the
Newsmaker
interview. She was talking
to her father. The Friday-night conversations weren't her only weekly calls to
Dallas, but they were the only ones during which father and daughter talked
without the loving interruptions—and concerns—of her grandparents.
Allison had been apprehensive about tonight's conversation. She
wasn't going to lie to her father, merely omit a few events of the past week,
skipping over both the unimportant one—the destruction of her work—and the
significant ones: James holding her, wanting her, before telling her to leave;
her worry that the complicated woman with whom she was forging a friendship
might have slashed her photographs and shredded her gown; her certainty that
Maylene was Juliana's daughter.
Allison had worried her voice might betray her by sounding either
uncommonly hesitant or excessively cheerful. But what she'd heard was her
resolute conviction that Hong Kong was where she belonged.
There
was
hesitancy during the phone call, but it came from
Dallas. When Allison shared her hope that she and Maylene were becoming
friends, it took longer than expected to hear Garrett say he hoped so, too. And
there was another protracted silence when she told him about the gown Juliana
was designing for her.
"Our voices must be bouncing off a few extra satellites
tonight," she said.
Garrett heard her at once, but allowed a few seconds to elapse.
"I guess so."
"Well, then, I'll leave you with a question I
know
you'll
want to delay answering. Have you given any more thought to coming to Hong
Kong? Any time would be terrific, but once I've met my December eleventh
deadline, I'll be much less busy."
***
Long after the call ended, Garrett replayed the conversation in
his mind. Allison and Maylene were becoming friends. Allison and Juliana had
met. Both revelations had caused floods of emotion that stalled his words. But
what almost drowned him was what Allison didn't say—that designer and architect
were mother and daughter.
There was an obvious, painful reason Allison didn't know of the
relationship. The Daughter of Greatest Love and the woman he would love forever
were estranged.
Garrett began the letter to Juliana then. And, although he'd been
composing it in his heart since June, it was far easier to envision there than
on a stark white sheet of paper. Even the greeting was difficult. The words in
his heart—
My dearest Juliana, my darling love
—were hopelessly
presumptuous. For all he knew, Juliana was happily married. That was what he
wished for her. Happiness. Love.
Dear Juliana, he decided, followed by pages of pure emotion he'd
never send—including his belief that their lives were fated to become entwined
anew... as if destiny were rewarding them for their good behavior all these
years.
In the end, he wrote,
Dear Juliana,
I promised you I'd never return to Hong Kong. But circumstances
have changed, haven't they? I'd like to come in December, to see you on the
tenth and surprise Allison with my visit the follow day. But I can come
whenever you want, Juliana, and will do nothing without your permission. Please
let me know.
Garrett
Garrett's letter, marked Personal and Confidential, arrived at the
Pearl Moon boutique during Hong Kong's most beautiful celebration—
Chung
Chui,
the Festival of the Moon.
Paper lanterns adorned the territory, brightly colored and in
myriad shapes—butterflies, flowers, dragons, fish. As the sun fell and the moon
rose, parades of celebrants carrying lighted lanterns descended on Hong Kong's
beaches and parks. On that night, as if in homage to the moon, the clouds
parted to reveal its autumnal amber glow.
Allison and Maylene sat on snow-white sand, amid elaborate sand
castles illuminated by candles, and searched for the images of Chang O and the
Jade Rabbit in the moon above.
As their daughters marveled at the moon and shared the delicious
sweetness of a mooncake, Juliana wrote her reply.
She'd read Garrett's note a thousand times, imagining an infinity
of loving words between the lines, then concluding the written words were all
there were. Juliana wanted to reply to the love that
might
be there. In
the end, her response was as matter-of-fact as his—more businesslike, in fact,
for the location she proposed for their luncheon rendezvous was a favorite of
the world's most successful entrepreneurs.
Dear Garrett,
Yes, please come. I shall meet you at one o'clock on December 10th
at the Captain's Bar in the Mandarin Oriental hotel.
Juliana
Twenty-Three
Drake Towers
Wednesday, October 27, 1993
"Your lady is really extraordinary."
James's inscrutable granite eyes studied Robert McLaren as he
considered the ex-cop's statement. That Allison Whitaker was extraordinary was
beyond dispute. But she was hardly
his
lady—despite the fact that he
dreamed about her nightly.
Because of Allison, the images that awakened James from sleep had
taken on new layers of terror. The fiery nightmare of Gweneth and their son
remained, but it blazed with added torment. Two flaming silhouettes awaited him
in the inferno, calling his name, pleading for his help... and his love. By
moving to save one, he condemned the other to certain death, and if he made no
move at all, both would perish.
James always awakened before making a choice, but the torment
stayed with him as he spent what was left of the night practicing his deadly
moves against the faceless enemy who'd stolen so much.
The old nightmare, worse now, haunted his sleep. And there was a
new one. Allison stood alone in the flames, blood pouring from her shredded
flesh. The fire didn't prevent him from reaching her. He enfolded her in his
arms and urged her to let him take her to a hospital. But she shook her head in
reply, splattering blood as she did. Then, as she raised a blood-streaked arm,
he was blinded by the shining silver bracelet that promised death to her if
anyone tried to give her blood.
Sometimes James was rewarded with a dream of sparkling eyes,
flushed pink cheeks, smiling lips. The dream of Allison awakened him as surely
as his nightmares did, but with a different torment entirely.
Except in his sleep, James hadn't seen Allison since she'd defied
his request that she leave Hong Kong. From both Robert McLaren and the security
staff at the hotel, James knew that no further incidents had occurred. But
James worried. The reason he and Robert were meeting face-to-face today was
that he wanted to discuss Robert's observations in greater detail.
"I know she's extraordinary," James replied. "What
makes you say so?"
"She's absolutely tireless. She leaves the hotel at dawn and
doesn't return till nightfall. Quite frankly, my men and I are glad that with
each passing day there's a little less daylight. I thought it was ridiculous
when I was forced to retire because of the gunshot wound to my leg. But after
following Allison up every hill in Hong Kong, I've realized my leg's not as
good as new, after all. Of course, she has some old injury as well."
"What do you mean?"
"By the end of the day, she's limping. It doesn't stop her,
not for long anyway, although occasionally she'll pause, as if debating whether
to soldier on. She inevitably does."
James remembered her telling him what a soothing balm Hong Kong's
tropical heat was for her creaky joints. The summer's steamy humidity was gone,
and Allison was pushing herself harder than ever. He wanted to hold her so
tightly she was warmed, soothed, by the fires that burned within him.
That was what James wanted for himself. And for her? He wanted her
to leave Hong Kong. Even if there was no longer danger from an unknown vandal,
there was the ever-increasing danger from
him.
Every day she remained,
it became harder for him to stay away.
"Does she ever take time off?"
"Not much. She spends her evenings in her apartment,
presumably in the darkroom, because every morning she delivers a batch of
negatives to the vault. She and Maylene Kwan get together once or twice a week,
usually in the hotel, and beyond that she has occasional lunches with her other
friends."
James had vowed not to spy on Allison, caring only that she was
safe, but searching for clues of lurking menace, he asked, "Her other
friends?"
"Hong Kong's best. Lady Lloyd-Ashton and Juliana Kwan."
James's jaw muscles rippled in response to Juliana's name. He
respected her immensely, of course, and during the past few months, as she'd
become more outspoken, he'd made a point of publicly agreeing with every
politically dangerous comment she made. By his wholehearted endorsement of
Juliana's views, James hoped to share the burden with her. Indeed, he wished he
could shift it entirely to himself, to assume all the risk. But he couldn't. He
was British, and therefore immune from retribution. No matter how flagrant his
words, he could never be considered a traitor to China.
But Juliana could.
"Juliana Kwan," he echoed.
Robert McLaren correctly interpreted James's concern. "I
think Allison's relationship with Juliana has very little to do with politics.
She shops at the Pearl Moon boutique, and whenever she and Juliana meet for
lunch, the conversation looks personal. I'm pretty confident they're not
rewriting the Basic Law."
"Is Juliana being followed?"
"Definitely not. Why would she be? She's hiding nothing. Both
her beliefs and her willingness to express them are on the record. When Lady
Lloyd-Ashton is present, however, we do have an extra pair of eyes, sometimes
two."
"Eve is being watched?"
"You bet. It's not surprising, is it? She's an obvious target
for kidnapping. Can you imagine the ransom? Sir Geoffrey would pay it, of
course, but he's very wise to try to prevent anything from happening to his
princess in the first place."
***
If they hadn't been his sister's sons, John Wu would have had his
nephews killed. For almost six weeks they'd lied to him, submitting detailed
reports of the activities of Lady Lloyd-Ashton which were clever fictions at
best.
John Wu's discovery of his nephews' lies was sheer luck. On
October 8th, as he was reviewing the week's summary before submitting it to Sir
Geoffrey, he noticed a three-hour lunch with Juliana Kwan the day before.
But hadn't this morning's
Standard
mentioned a luncheon
address given yesterday by Juliana Kwan? Hadn't the fashion
designer-turned-revolutionary been expressing her views to a group of bankers
at the Plume, not dining with the Princess of Peak Castle at Au Trou Normand?
John Wu found the article and confronted his nephews, who promptly
confessed all. There were days, they admitted, when Lady Lloyd-Ashton simply
disappeared. She'd go into the hospital or Pearl Moon and never come out.
Frantic, they'd spend the afternoon at the tram station on Garden Road, praying
she'd reappear, and when she did, they'd follow her home, clocking the precise
moment she entered the castle. Then they'd create scenarios for the unwitnessed
hours based on what she'd done on the few afternoons they hadn't lost her.
John Wu's nephews were lucky he hadn't killed them, and he himself
was lucky to have discovered the fraud before Sir Geoffrey did, and it was the
greatest luck of all that wherever Lady Lloyd-Ashton had disappeared to, it
wasn't the airport.
She'd never actually disappeared, John Wu decided. His nephews
were merely inept. But when he put his best men on the task, Lady Lloyd-Ashton
eluded them, too, and for the weeks of October 11th and 18th, John Wu himself
was forced to create fictional luncheons with Allison and Juliana. Finally, on
Monday the 25th, his men tracked the disguised princess to a condominium
building in the Mid Levels where she was greeted by Tyler Vaughn.
John Wu's relief was instantly overshadowed by the unsavory
prospect of revealing to Hong Kong's most powerful taipan his cherished wife's
clandestine affair.
***
"There must be a problem," Sir Geoffrey said as he
greeted John Wu. "Your reports usually come to me by courier. Or are you
here to demand more money because keeping track of my wife is so
difficult?"
"We found something."
"Tell me." Geoffrey's casualness was very far from the
churning impatience he felt. "Would you like a drink, John?"