“You’re a smart woman, Ms. Lin. You know at the very end of this you are going to die. That’s why you’re here. When you accomplish your mission, they are going to want somebody to blame, somebody to point to, and that person is going to be you. And obviously it does not suit our purposes for you to still be alive when that happens. In the next seventy-two hours or so, you will be dead, but as long as you do what you’re told, your family will stay alive. Do you understand me?”
I don’t like being threatened, and I especially don’t like my family being threatened, but there’s not much one can do with a shock collar around one’s neck while a man stands off to the side with a Glock holstered to his belt and other armed guards roaming the property. They’re smart enough not to have given me a steak knife, but there is a butter knife on the table along with a fork and a spoon, and while they may not seem like dangerous weapons, in the right hands they can be. Still, it’s the knowledge that my family is in danger that keeps me from grabbing one of the utensils and making a move at Louis.
I keep my gaze steady with Hayward’s when I answer.
“Yes.”
Smiling, Hayward picks up his fork. He spears one of the asparagus on his plate, takes a bite, chews for a moment, and then wipes his mouth with his napkin.
“I’m glad that we understand each other, Ms. Lin. I hope you also understand I take disrespect quite seriously. My love, well, you saw how she acts. She’s allowed her little tantrums. Nobody else is. Because of your flippant attitude earlier when Louis asked you what you wanted for dinner, you won’t be eating that steak. Nobody will. Jose’s stomach will growl when he throws it away. He hasn’t eaten for two days.”
I sit in my chair, motionless, and stare back at him. Conscious of the collar around my neck. Remembering Jose writhing in pain on the dining room floor. He’s just a boy, and I hate to admit I’d probably end up in the same position if they turned my collar on full blast.
Hayward forks some of the mashed potatoes, chews thoughtfully, and sets his fork aside as he wipes his mouth with his napkin.
“Jose, take her plate away.”
The boy lifts my plate from the table, places it on his tray, and starts back toward the door, his minder following close behind.
I watch Hayward as he cuts into his steak, stabs a piece, and chews on it for a couple seconds before pushing the plate away in disgust. He takes a sip of wine, glaring at me over the glass, and finally shakes his head.
“I was hoping we would have a nice, quiet dinner, but no, you had to go and be obstinate. I don’t think you appreciate the fact that you’re a guest here at Neverland.”
Hayward takes off his glasses, uses a handkerchief from his pocket to clean the lenses.
“You see, Ms. Lin, I appreciate the fact that you think you’re special. I can understand why after what I know you did to the Diaz family, and how you took down El Diablo the way you did—the cartels had been trying to take him out for over a year with no luck—but the simple truth is you are only another freelancer. You’re nothing special. Just yesterday two sicarios passed through here. They were brothers. Imagine that. Brothers who work together as hitmen.”
Hayward puts his glasses back on as he pushes up from his chair. He starts to walk down the length of the table. Taking his time, tapping his knuckles along the tabletop as he goes.
“I’m a businessman, Ms. Lin. That’s who I am. That’s what I’ve done all my life. I was the one who founded Neverland. I created all of this. You might not understand what it is I do, and that’s all right because it doesn’t matter. I’m simply a man fulfilling an obligation. People much more powerful than I want something done, and I’m the one to make it happen, and the only way that happens is for you to do what you’re told. If not, your family dies.”
He pauses at the corner of the table, leans down so his face is only inches from mine.
“I will admit I don’t know much about your background, but from what I understand you killed people for the United States government. You were basically a drone. Just another cog in the massive war machine. You’re nothing special. That’s what I want you to understand before this is all over. When you fulfill your duty and Louis aims his gun at your head, I want you to accept the fact that you are not special.”
He pauses, turns toward Louis.
“Give me a bullet.”
I hear the frown in Louis’s voice.
“Sir?”
“Give me a bullet.”
From the corner of my eye I watch Louis pull the Glock from its holster, rack the slide to cough out a bullet. He catches it midair and hands it to Hayward.
The man holds the bullet close to his face, like he’s inspecting a priceless diamond, and then taps it on the table.
“You see this? This is all you are. You’re not a weapon. You’re simply a bullet. Louis, what kind of bullet is this?”
“Hollow point, sir.”
Hayward echoes it, nodding.
“Hollow point. That’s what you are, Ms. Lin. You’re nothing more than a hollow point. Your whole purpose in life is to kill. You don’t make decisions. Men much more powerful than you are the ones who made those decisions in the past, just as they’re making those decisions now. They’re the ones that load you. They’re the ones that pull the trigger.”
He holds the bullet up again, and smiles.
“You see, Ms. Lin, this is what we
