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Still, like having his birthday cake two days early, Jack was a year late for this particular ceremony. While the Chinese performed this act on a child’ssecondbirthday, a Chinese child’sfirstbirthday was counted on the month after they were born. The Chinese considered the time spentin uteroto cover the bulk of a child’s first year.
Still, Guan-yin demanded that lines be blurred for her grandson.Zhua Zhou—or the birthday grab—would be performed today. An array of symbolic items had been arranged across the floor before Jack, each representing a predicted destiny. There was a jade abacus heralding a future in business or finance. A chicken leg for a calling as a chef. A small microphone for that potential entertainer in the family. In all, there were sixteen items for sixteen destinies.
The group all waited for Jack to pick an item.
Gray did not fail to note that Seichan had centered a tiny sword closest to Jack’s left knee. It needed no explanation for the destiny it represented. Guan-yin, ever the grandmother, had snuck a toy stethoscope near Jack’s other knee. Apparently, all grandparents wanted a future doctor in the family.
Gray hadn’t bothered with such foolishness.
No one’s fate is decided like this.
Still, Gray sat straighter as Jack leaned forward. The boy gained his feet and took his first steps into the future. An expectant hush fell over the room. By now, Monk and Kat had joined them, standing at the entrance to the kitchen. Even Zhuang, drawn by the suspense, stepped away from his post to watch the action.
Jack crossed through the cluster of objects as if navigating a minefield. He finally dropped to his knees, then his hands. He reached to an object at the very edge, shadowed by the arm of a couch and hidden under a drape of a velvet throw.
Once obtained, the boy dropped heavily to his backside, giggling at his new treasure and proudly lifting it for all to see.
Gray lunged forward and grabbed it. “Who put a grenade over here?”
The answer came from the hallway behind him. “That’s my godson, all right.”
Gray swung around and glared at Kowalski.
The gorilla of a man stood in boxers, flip-flops, and a T-shirt. From his red eyes and the pained set to his lips, he was still hungover from the New Year celebrations that ran into the early morning.
“Don’t worry,” Kowalski grumbled to them all. “It’s a dud. From the Korean War. I picked it up at a night market a couple days back. Knew Jack would love it. Got future demolitions expert written all over him. Just like me.”
Gray groaned. “Maybe we’d better try this again.”
Seichan nodded, a rare point of agreement between them of late. “We’re definitely doing it again.”
10:18P.M.
Seichan stood at the railing of the dark balcony and stared down at the walled garden below. A scatter of small lanterns glowed, illuminating dark ponds, arched bridges, and tinkling bamboo fountains. The scent of winter-blooming Bauhinia orchid trees sweetened the gentle night breezes.
Behind her, the villa slowly succumbed to the night. Gray was showering after getting Jack settled to bed. Monk, Kat, and the girls had retired to a private cabana within the walled grounds. Kowalski had set off into the city, trailed by a pair of triad guards—though their presence was likely less to protect the large man as to keep him from triggering an international incident.
Their group had traveled from the States under fake names and with forged passports. The goal was to keep a low profile. Since they were not here in any official capacity, they had to tread lightly. On paper, Hong Kong remained a special administrative region of the People’s Republic, with a separate governing and economic system from the mainland. But the principle of “one country, two systems” had grown so blurred of late as to make the two nearly indistinguishable in governance, especially following the harsh crackdown of protests in 2019 and then the strict quarantines during Covid.
Despite these changes, their group’s trespass into Hong Kong was facilitated by two factors.
First, Sigma remained a clandestine organization, operating at the periphery of military structure. Members were former soldiers with the Armed Forces, mostly special ops, who had been covertly recruited by DARPA, the Defense Department’s research-and-development agency. The operatives were re-trained in various scientific disciplines to act as first-strike field agents and investigative teams whenever a global threat should arise. In that capacity, Sigma missions remained entirely off-the-books, operating in a shadowy realm that blurred the lines between intelligence services, military operations, and scientific research.
Second, even with all the subterfuge, their group in Hong Kong was undoubtedly under surveillance and their identity was surely known. It was a game intelligence services played, to pretend not to notice another agency’s trespass, while keeping close tabs. Unless their group posed an immediate threat to Chinese security, their presence would be tolerated. No one would act against them without provocation.
At least for now.
Still, as Seichan stood at the balcony rail, she remained guarded, which was her steady state at all times. With the exception of the tiny lanterns in the garden, the only light came from the cold glitter of stars and the distant neon shine of Hong Kong’s skyscrapers. The moon had already set, not that it would have cast any light. With the Chinese New Year coming to an end, the phase of the lunar cycle—the new moon—was but a dark shadow sliding across the stars.
It was how she had felt most of her life.
A shadow moving across the brightness of the world.
The curtains shifted behind her, allowing a sliver of lamplight to slice across the balcony. The slider glided open, and a silk-robed figure pushed out onto the balcony. Her mother crossed toward her, bringing along the awkwardness that had never fully cleared between them.
Despite being reunited four years before, a certain discomfort remained. A gulf of more than twenty years—when each had thought the other was dead—had proven to be a hard bridge to cross. Afterthey had rediscovered each other, Seichan had spent considerable time with her mother, but during the last couple of years, the gaps between visits had grown. The last time she had come with Jack had been ten months ago.
Upon reaching the balcony rail, her mother kept silent, as if testing these waters before speaking. Guan-yin used the time to withdraw a crumpled cellophane pack from her robe and tap a cigarette loose. She slipped it to her lips. She patted her clothes, looking for a lighter.
