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“What? Oh.” She adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder. She glanced up at Dirk, and he was shocked at the deep sadness reflected in her eyes. But all she said was, “If you want to know, just ask.”
He debated with himself for a moment, weighing his elemental need to know what had put that shadow in her eyes against the knowledge that he didn’t have a right to know. His need won out. He pushed his BluBlockers to the top of his head and faced her. “Okay, I’m asking.”
She drew a deep breath, then let it out with excruciating slowness. “Patrick said, ‘Moh ching, moh meng.’ Which translates as ‘No money, no life.’ It’s a common expression in Hong Kong.” Her voice was very low, as if she were having trouble getting the words out. After a minute, she added, “He didn’t mean it the way you might think. He was just reminding me, that’s all.”
“Reminding you about what?”
“The ransom note the kidnappers sent to Sean’s parents? The last sentence was Moh ching, moh meng. Patrick just wanted me to remember, so I don’t do anything—and don’t let you do anything—to make the kidnappers panic the way they did with Sean.”
He didn’t want to think it, but the idea slipped insidiously into his mind and refused to be banished. It was exactly the sort of thing Patrick would say...if he were involved in the kidnapping.
Mei-li looked up at him again. “He’s not involved,” she insisted.
“How did you know I—”
“Because you have a very emotive face.” A faint smile came and went. “A good thing for an actor...not so good if you want to conceal what you’re thinking.”
* * *
Six minutes later, they approached the exhibit mentioned in the ransom note. Normally Dirk would have been fascinated by the historical displays they’d passed and would have taken his time to view them all in detail. He loved history, always had. Which was also why he gladly took on movie projects based on history, like the one he’d shot a couple of years ago—King’s Ransom—with Juliana. Bree had been alive then, just two months pregnant when they’d gone to Zakhar to film on location.
He quickly shut down that train of thought. Bree was dead. But she’d fought to stay alive long enough to give birth to Linden and Laurel, had sacrificed her own life to ensure theirs. He wouldn’t let Bree’s sacrifice be in vain. No matter what he had to do.
* * *
Three minutes before the hour, Mei-li touched Dirk’s arm. “It’s time,” she told him. She already had her cell phone out and was pretending to take pictures, just as she’d done at the Peak this morning. Dirk had removed his sunglasses altogether—he would have drawn more attention, not less, by wearing them as they walked through the dimly lit museum exhibits—and he was doing the same as Mei-li with his smartphone.
They walked the few feet and boarded the junk, and as she glanced at the life-size diorama behind the glass, her mind detoured for a few seconds. She tried to imagine living her entire life in such a tiny space, as the boat people had done, and a few still did. Spending your entire life on a tiny boat, making a living from the sea. Only stepping on land to sell your catch, and not even always then—sometimes boat people sold their fish right from their boats to people on the docks. Such a restricted life.
She couldn’t fathom it. Yes, Hong Kong living quarters were small compared to those in the United States. They were even small compared to the cities in Britain she’d visited. But they weren’t this small.
Then she reined in her wandering thoughts. She pointed her smartphone here and there, as if she was taking pictures, but her eyes were darting everywhere. No one else was around, except the female museum guard stationed off to one side. Might have to do something to distract her, Mei-li told herself. Can’t let her see us leaving the bag. But the kidnapper was nowhere to be seen. Was he watching? Was he—
Dirk’s iPhone buzzed. She’d warned him to mute it inside the museum unless he wanted to draw attention when the call came in. He answered, and just like this morning Mei-li could hear every word he said. Also just like this morning, tears filled her eyes as she listened to the heart-wrenching anguish in his voice, imagining what his daughters must be saying to him. She blinked away the tears that threatened, despite her stern warning to herself that she couldn’t afford to be distracted by emotion. She had to stay focused.
She turned away from Dirk, hoping that if she didn’t have to see him so terrifyingly still it would be easier to bear—and that’s when she spotted the man. She quickly glanced away, not wanting to make eye contact. Not wanting to betray in any way that she’d seen him silhouetted for just an instant in the far doorway...watching them. She observed him from the corner of her eye, saw him move stealthily back, behind the wall. And she knew.
