“Drop the knife,” the man called. “Then take off your jade.”
If it had been only her own safety in question, under no circumstances would Shae allow herself to be disarmed and for her jade to be taken. Even outnumbered, she would’ve turned and fought until she was killed or subdued—which was sure to happen, seeing as how Dudo and Tako, trained Fists much younger than her, had been overpowered. But that would mean leaving Wen to the mercy of their enemies, which she could not do. The barukan hadn’t fired on the women. They wanted them alive.
Which meant they wanted something from No Peak.
Shae let the talon knife slip from her fingers and fall to the ground. She willed her fingers not to shake as she removed her earrings and bracelets. A sick sense of degradation crawled up her throat and made her face burn with shame and disgust. She felt as violated as if she were being forced to strip naked before her assailants. When she’d removed her jade, the man said, “Set it down on the ground and walk backward.”
Shae’s hands closed tight around her jade. It won’t get you out of this, she told herself. It won’t help Wen, either. She bent her knees and dropped the gems on the ground in front of her. The first disorienting jolt of withdrawal hit a couple of seconds later. Shae curled her hands in the folds of her skirt. She swayed, light-headed. A layer of gauze seemed to fall over her eyes and ears and turn the night even more surreal.
Slowly, she stood up and took two steps back. Rough hands came down on her shoulders and forced her down to her knees, scraping her skin against asphalt. Shae caught a glimpse of Wen’s terrified face, trying to say something—and then the black hood went over Shae’s head, her wrists were bound behind her back, and she was half pushed, half dragged into a car that began to move.
_______
Hilo was in the training hall with his eighteen-year-old nephew, Maik Cam, when the housekeeper, Sulima, ran up from the main house and slid the door open without knocking. “Forgive me, Kauljen,” she panted, her face pale with alarm, “but someone . . . On the phone . . .”
The Pillar strode through the dark courtyard into the main house and picked up the phone in the study, hitting the button for the main line. An accented voice said, “Kaul Hiloshudon. If you wanted to invade Shotar, you should’ve come yourself instead of sending your bitches. You’re used to being in charge, but from this moment on, you’re not in charge anymore. If you want your wife and your sister returned alive and intact, you’ll do exactly as we say.” Silence. “Are you listening carefully, Kaul Hilo?”
“Yes,” Hilo said. “Prove they’re alive and unharmed.”
A rustle of movement in the background as the phone was handed off. There was a considerable amount of static interference, as if the connection was bad. Hilo’s heart stuttered as Wen’s voice came onto the line, hoarse and frightened. “Hilo?”
He managed to keep his own voice unchanged. “Have they hurt you?”
“No,” she said weakly.
“And Shae?”
“They took her jade, but she’s not hurt. Dudo and Tako are badly injured.”
“Stay calm,” Hilo said. “I’ll solve this.”
“Hilo, I—”
The phone was snatched away and the kidnapper’s voice returned. “You have the proof you asked for. Now this is what you will do. You’ll deliver forty kilograms of cut jade and two million Espenian thalirs in cash tomorrow at midnight, at a location of my choosing, in exchange for your wife. If this transaction goes smoothly, you’ll have seven days to shut down the operations you set up in Leyolo City, remove every single member of your clan from our country, and publicly announce that No Peak will make no further attempts, now or in the future, to enter Shotar. Then, and only then, will you get your sister back, along with your two men if they are still alive.”
“I’ll do as you say,” Hilo replied. “You’ll get the money and the jade you want. I’ll pull No Peak out of Shotar. I can overlook losing material things. If you harm the people I care about, however, that is a very different matter.” A fever was engulfing his brain. He felt as if the edges of his vision were closing in. All the most terrible possibilities he could imagine were crashing against a bulwark of consuming rage.
What he said next would have to be perfect. He could be neither defiant nor meek. If he was too aggressive, they would abandon their plans and kill their captives. If he sounded desperate, they would not fear him enough to commit to their end of the bargain. This damning calculation happened without conscious thought.