A Father's Desperate Rescue (Man on a Mission 5)

“Mei-li is actually my middle name. It means beautiful and graceful.”

“Your parents named you well.” That certain something was back in his voice. Nothing blatant. Nothing overtly sexual. Just an honest assessment of the way she appeared to him—beautiful and graceful.

Her cheeks reddened at the compliment. “My parents compromised when they named their children. My father—you have to understand that China’s is a male-dominated culture—my father picked our first names, and my mother agreed to that. She picked our middle names. So my brother is Jason Chi-Ming Moore, and I’m Victoria—yes, after that Victoria—Mei-li Moore. But my parents always called me Mei-li as far back as I can remember. Probably because I look more Chinese than English.”

“What about your brother? What name does he use?”

“Jason? He’s always been Jason. But then, he takes after my father, so Jason suits him more than Chi-Ming. Only a very discerning eye can tell that Chinese blood flows through his veins—we look nothing alike.”

The Rolls had been climbing steadily for some time, following the road that twisted and turned its way up to Victoria Peak. Now when Mei-li glanced out the window, she realized they were almost there. She checked her watch and saw it lacked a quarter of the hour, which meant they still had plenty of time to make the 11:00 a.m. deadline.

She leaned forward and spoke to Patrick in Cantonese, and he nodded. Then she turned to Dirk and said, “Patrick will drop us at the Peak Galleria, then try to find a place to park. Parking is always a nightmare up here.” She pointed farther up the mountain, where several apartment buildings and what appeared to be a couple of houses could be seen. “We’re not actually going up there to the top. This is where the tourists come, the Victoria Gap—and here we are,” she said as Patrick pulled to the curb. “We walk from here,” she told Dirk, jumping out of the Rolls. “It’s not far.”

Mei-li looped her purse strap over her shoulder, took a firm grip on the shopping bag and told Dirk, who’d quickly donned his identity-concealing sunglasses, “Follow me,” as she headed for the overlook.

The mall and the walkways were crowded—tourists and local visitors everywhere. The Peak, as with most other attractions in Hong Kong, was carrying on as if the typhoon was a far-distant memory instead of one from only two days ago.

Mei-li darted through whatever openings she could find in the crowd, glancing over her shoulder a time or two to make sure Dirk was right behind her.

They passed the wall where local artists had clipped their sketches, drawings and paintings of Hong Kong and were doing a brisk trade selling them to the tourists. She could always differentiate the tourists from the locals—the locals haggled. The tourists for the most part didn’t.

They finally reached the archway erected by the Lion’s Club of Tai Ping Shan, whose circular entrance was flanked by two stone lions. “Excuse us,” Mei-li murmured to the people blocking them, taking pictures. She quickly checked her watch, then grabbed Dirk’s hand. “Five minutes,” she said in an undertone as she practically raced to the far end.

Mei-li hooked the straps of the shopping bag over one of the iron rail posts, then grabbed her cell phone from her purse. Obedient to their earlier instructions, she pretended to be taking pictures of Hong Kong’s tall buildings down below and Tsim Sha Tsui in the far distance. Sometimes the view was obscured by fog, but not today. The sky was a clear, vibrant blue, and visibility was perfect. She could even see the ferries plying the waters of Victoria Harbour.

She and Dirk had this section of the overlook to themselves, because trees blocked part of the view. Most people stopped before they got this far, and anyone who did come here quickly turned back for a better photo op.

Dirk had his smartphone out and was doing the same thing she was. “Think they’re watching us?” he asked, his deep voice pitched to carry no further than to where she stood.

“Maybe. I hope so.” A shiver ran down her spine at the eerie feeling they were under observation. She surreptitiously looked around to see if she could spot someone, but she knew that would be a long shot. If someone was watching, they didn’t have to be close by. They could be as far away as the top of the Peak Tower, noting their every move through binoculars.

She gave up trying to spot whoever might be watching them because it really made no difference. And she didn’t want that person—assuming they were being watched—to worry about what she and Dirk might do. They were here to deliver the ransom exactly as instructed. Nothing more. Believe that, she told the unseen observer. So much depended on the two of them following their instructions...at least on the surface.