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I waited for more, but it wasn’t forthcoming. He just sat watching me.
‘If you don’t tell me what is going on, I will resign.’
He studied me closely, then shook his head. ‘You’re really not frightened at all, are you?’
I glared defiantly at him. ‘Of course not. And I will find out what is going on here.’
He leaned back. ‘We’ll explain it all soon. But right now, Simone’s Chinese teacher is here. Go and let her in.’
The doorbell rang and I jumped. ‘How do you know it’s Simone’s Chinese teacher?’
He just watched me.
‘I’m not finished yet,’ I warned, and opened the door to go out.
‘I sincerely hope not,’ he said softly behind me.
Monica was ahead of me and had already let the Chinese teacher in. I sighed with exasperation and went into my room. I lay on the bed and opened one of the books on Chinese gods. I was certain now that they’d been left there for me.
That couple on the beach had disappeared completely. The kid today had made a chopper magically appear in his hand. Both Simone and Mr Chen could tell who was in the house without seeing them.
I did another internet search on Xuan Tian Shang Di and was referred to a page about Xuan Wu. I clicked the link and the screen filled with information about the Dark Lord of the North, Xuan Wu. Something to do with snakes and turtles – he either defeated them or he was one or even both of them. Controlled water; brought rain.
Xuan Wu, also called the Dark Emperor Zhen Wu, and Chen Wu and Pak Tai in Southern China. Pak Tai, who had a temple on Cheung Chau devoted to him. Boring Pak Tai.
God of Martial Arts, Emperor of the Northern Heavens. Always in black; dishevelled hair, bare feet. Destroyer of demons.
Could it be a codename?
But spy things wouldn’t explain all the weird stuff in the Chen household…
I stared at the screen with disbelief. Dark Lord Xuan Wu?
No way.
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_b7d1f1f8-8dcd-5006-af66-f1b4e279b1cd)
We had the usual Chinese vegetarian meal that evening. Simone chatted about the yum cha and the wedding photos, but didn’t mention our mad rush home.
‘I have arranged a trip for us to Paris,’ Mr Chen said.
Leo let out his breath in a long hiss, but didn’t say anything. ‘Can we see Aunty Kwan?’ Simone said.
‘That’s why we’re going – I need to meet with Aunty Kwan.’
‘I wanna go to the Eiffel Tower!’
‘You always want to go to the Eiffel Tower,’ he said, smiling indulgently.
Simone screwed up her face. ‘I like it. Can I go to the Science Museum as well?’
‘You want to go to London too?’
Simone nodded, wide-eyed. ‘Yes, please, Daddy. I want to see James and Charlie.’
He sighed. ‘All right. But only for a couple of days. I can’t stay away for too long, you know that.’
‘Okay, Daddy.’
‘Leo, ask Monica to take Simone and we’ll discuss the details.’
After Monica had taken Simone out of the dining room, Mr Chen became much more businesslike. I listened carefully; this would be my first trip overseas with them and I didn’t want to screw up.
‘Out of Macau as usual, Leo,’ he said. ‘We’ll stay with Ms Kwan in Paris, and in the house in Kensington in London.’
‘Understood, sir,’ Leo said.
‘Have you ever been to Europe, Miss Donahoe?’ Mr Chen said. ‘Do you speak French?’
‘No. Australia and Asia only.’ I grimaced with embarrassment. ‘My French is pathetic.’
‘Not a problem. Leo’s French is perfect, and he will escort you and Simone while I meet with Ms Kwan.’
‘How long will you meet with her, sir?’ Leo said.
‘Five days.’
Leo nodded.
‘Then three days in London, and back here. Guard them well, Leo, we will be a long way from the Mountain.’
‘Sir.’
Mr Chen turned to me and put his palms firmly on the table. ‘Any questions, Emma?’ He saw my face. ‘What?’
‘You called me Emma. You usually call me Miss Donahoe.’
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Sorry.’
‘No, no.’ I waved my hands in front of me. ‘Please. Emma. Call me Emma. Miss Donahoe is so formal.’
He smiled and his eyes wrinkled up. ‘Very well…Emma.’
‘Don’t even think about it, girlie, you don’t have a chance,’ Leo growled as we walked together down the hallway.
‘Don’t worry, Leo, he’s far too old for me,’ I said, still thinking about those eyes.
‘You’re not wrong there.’
‘How old is he anyway? He looks mid-forties, but sometimes he seems older, sometimes younger – he’s hard to pick.’
‘You’re in your late twenties, right?’
I nodded.
‘Well then, let’s just say that he’s a hell of a lot older than you and you really don’t have a chance. So just forget it.’
‘Jealous?’
Leo stopped. ‘Mr Chen’s wife was a truly wonderful human being. I knew her for a long time before she met him, and I loved her like a sister. His heart is still broken, Emma. He’ll never love anybody again the way that he loved her.’
‘What happened to her?’
‘She died.’
‘I know she died, Leo,’ I said gently. ‘What happened?’
‘None of your goddamn business.’ He stomped into his room and slammed the door.
We travelled to Macau in a fifteen-metre Chinese-style junk. It had an air-conditioned central lounge with a large-screen TV. Simone and I sat in deckchairs on the open-air back of the boat and watched the scenery go past.
It was fascinating to see the sudden change as we left Hong Kong Harbour. We moved from the densely packed highrises on Hong Kong Island and Kowloon to the sparsely populated Outlying Islands. We went in close past Lantau Island, its rocky crags extending right to the edge of the water. Most of Lantau was deserted, its steep hillside covered in scrub and wild azaleas. The new airport was on the other side of the island.
‘Why do we have to go to Macau?’ I shouted to Mr Chen, who sat in the lounge reading a Chinese book.
‘Private jets aren’t allowed in Chek Lap Kok, it’s too busy.’
I was thrilled. I quickly rose and went into the cabin to speak to him. ‘We’re going in a private jet?’
He nodded and returned to his book.
I sat down. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
He shrugged without looking up from his book.
‘Hey,’ I said sharply, and he glanced up at me. ‘You need to tell me what’s going on, Mr Chen.’
Leo snorted with amusement from the other side of the cabin and I rounded on him. ‘You too. Tell me what’s going on!’
Mr Chen opened his mouth to say something, then obviously changed his mind and smiled. ‘Very well. We will take my jet from Macau airport to Paris. We will stay in Paris for five days, then fly to London. London for three days, where I have a house in Kensington. Then we’ll take the jet back here. Is that acceptable, Miss Donahoe?’
I bobbed my head and spoke with mock appreciation. ‘Thank you for explaining, Mr Chen.’
He smiled over the top of his book. ‘You are most welcome.’
‘Do you own this boat?’
‘Yes. I need to buy a bigger one. It’s very slow; it takes nearly two hours to travel to Macau.’
‘Hey, it’s fun to go slow. There’s a lot to see.’
‘It’s not safe,’ Leo said.
‘We’ll be fine,’ Mr Chen said.
‘We shouldn’t leave Simone in the back by herself like that! It’s not safe!’
Mr Chen sighed with exasperation. ‘Leo, we’re on the water.’
‘Oh,’ Leo said. ‘Sorry.’ He went to the back of the boat and sat with Simone anyway.
Mr Chen smiled over the top of his book, as if to say: He worries too much.
I smiled back: Yes, he does.
The jet was ready for us when we arrived at Macau.
Simone behaved perfectly through all of the customs and immigration procedures. She seemed experienced in the rush-and-wait of the airport paperwork. Fortunately Macau airport wasn’t terribly busy and we reached the customs checkpoint reasonably quickly.
Leo nodded to Mr Chen as he lifted the large carry-on bag onto the conveyor belt for the safety inspection. As the bag went through the X-ray machine, the two security staff shot to their feet and stared at the monitor. Mr Chen went rigid and concentrated on them. They waved us through.
I glared at Leo as we walked towards the plane and he pointedly ignored me. Mr Chen seemed oblivious, and Simone chatted about visiting Aunty Kwan. It was as if nothing had happened.
I held Simone’s hand as we walked up the small staircase into the jet. It was about the size of a bus, with large comfortable seats inside and a couch against one wall. Leo almost had to crouch to go through the door.
We sat in the seats and buckled up. The ground staff closed the door and rapped on the side. Mr Chen went up to the cockpit to talk to the pilots.
‘Been on a private jet before?’ Leo said.
‘No,’ I said. ‘Pretty cool.’
‘Yeah. Mr Chen had this one specially fitted. Behind the kitchen there’s a little bunk for Simone.’
‘He owns this plane outright?’
Leo hesitated, then, ‘Yes.’
‘How much money does he have anyway?’
‘Let’s just say that if he wanted his own 747, he could buy one tomorrow.’
‘But I’ve never seen his name on the Richest Men list.’
‘That’s because he doesn’t want to be,’ Leo snapped, and turned away.
Mr Chen returned from the cockpit. ‘Brian says we should have smooth flying most of the way.’
After we’d taken off, Mr Chen rose and touched Simone’s shoulder. ‘Are you tired, darling?’
