“You’re beyond saving,” Anden agreed. “But what about your family? The one that you’ve gone to such great lengths to keep secret?”
He reached back into his briefcase and pulled out an envelope. He opened it and laid three color photographs on the table in front of Iyilo. In the first photo, a pretty, thirty-something Uwiwan woman sat on a beach. She wore a pastel sundress, her long hair pulled into a messy bun. Her face was turned to the side, speaking to another woman while two children, perhaps ten and eight years old, played in the sand nearby. The second photo showed the same woman and children getting out of a car. In the third photo they were in the front yard of a nice house.
Iyilo’s darkly tanned face lost much of its color.
“I’m sure you’ve made private arrangements for your wife and children to be cared for after your death, but how can you protect them after you’re gone? How can you be sure that the men in Ti Pasuiga that you hired to guard them will have any reason to remain loyal to your memory? The Uwiwa Islands is a dangerous place.”
“How did . . .” Iyilo croaked without finishing.
“It doesn’t matter how we found them,” Anden said calmly. “If we could do it, others can. You’re not a Green Bone of Kekon, so you can’t count on aisho to protect your jadeless relatives. You’re only a barukan smuggler, and your family is only Uwiwan. Who is going to notice or care if something happens to them? Can Ayt Mada be absolutely certain you haven’t told your wife anything inconvenient that she might share with Uwiwan authorities?”
A subtle tremor went through Iyilo’s body and rattled his shackles against the metal table.
“Here is my Pillar’s offer.” Anden reached back into his briefcase and took out another envelope. He extracted three airplane tickets and spread them out next to the photos. “We can put your family on this flight which leaves tomorrow for Port Massy. They would be escorted to the airport under guard, and once they reach Espenia, they’ll be under the protection of the No Peak clan. We have many people and resources in that country. We can set them up with housing and new identities. Your children would live safe, ordinary lives. They would go to school there. Maybe they could even train in the jade disciplines. They’ll have the money you leave for them. And most importantly, they’ll have a future far from the sort of life you’ve led.”
He could sense the man’s will crumbling, but Iyilo still needed that final, gentle push toward the inevitable decision. Anden gathered the plane tickets and placed them back into the briefcase. He saw the smuggler’s eyes twitch as the papers disappeared out of sight, leaving the vulnerable photographs alone on the table.
“The Kaul family always keeps its word, even to enemies. Especially to enemies. This is my Pillar’s promise, which he’s entrusted me to convey to you. Share Ayt’s secrets, and we’ll keep yours. Speak against the Mountain, and we’ll protect your sons as if they were members of our own clan. However, if you refuse, I can’t tell you what my cousin will do with these photographs and whether he’ll feel any obligation toward your wife and children.”
Iyilo’s throat bobbed. “You’re a doctor. You can’t put them in danger.”
“You’d be surprised by the things I’ve done,” Anden told him. “I’ve taken lives and saved others. I’ve felt equal doubts about both.” He’d killed Gont Asch and saved Ayt Mada. He’d ordered the death of Jon Remi, and in so doing he’d cost Maik Tar his life. He’d healed innumerable strangers, yet he was haunted every day by Ru’s death and the possibility that if he’d been there, he could’ve saved his nephew. All those doubts had over time folded themselves into Anden’s duality—of being a Kaul and not a Kaul. It was a contradiction he’d long ago struggled to reconcile but that now simply was.
“In my family, one gets used to making decisions about life and death. But I know which type I prefer to make, when I can,” Anden said to the condemned man. “We can’t save you, Iyilo, but we can offer your family a life where not even the Mountain can reach them.”
He picked up the cell phone. “I told the Pillar I would phone him right away to tell him your decision. What’s it going to be?”
CHAPTER
57
Standoff
The wheels of the Duchesse Imperia rolled over unevenly packed dirt. Mud streaked the massive luxury sedan’s gleaming chrome grill and white doors. Hilo rolled down the window. He’d seen images of the Euman Standoff printed in the newspapers and shown on television, but they couldn’t convey the restless energy or the smell. The site seemed like a refugee camp crossed with an open-air music festival. Canvas and nylon tents were set up wherever their owners could find space. The smell of cooking food came off portable gas stoves on makeshift wooden-plank tables. A group of Abukei women danced and played traditional music for a circle of onlookers. Rows of bright yellow portable toilet stalls stood in a row along one side of the camp. Dogs rested in whatever shade they could find, often beneath cars draped with Kekonese flags and hand-painted banners. ANORCO: STEALING OUR JADE AND RAPING OUR LAND. ABUKEI RIGHTS! SPENNY SOLDIERS OUT.