Page 252 of Roberto

Obviously, I said nothing. I’d kept my face as blank as possible –

But that single detail bewildered me.

If Mei-ling betrayed me –

Which she obviously did –

Why didn’t she tell them about the C4?

It wasn’t like she could have forgotten.

Part of me kept grasping for hope, like a drowning man reaching for straws in a hurricane.

Maybe she has a plan!

Maybe she tried to give me a chance to get free!

But another part of me – the wounded, betrayed part – kept picturing her ashamed expression when she walked into the boardroom.

At least she felt bad about stabbing me in the back.

Not that her feelings mattered.

Nothing mattered.

There was no way out of my predicament except to blow myself up with the C4.

Lau had taken my cell phone, so I couldn’t contact my family.

Han had removed every landline in the penthouse except one – and my guards were keeping watch overit.

The plane would be arriving for me tomorrow morning at 11 AM –

But there was no way for me to reach it.

I was well and truly fucked…

All because I’d trustedher.

89

Eventually, I tired of my rage and self-loathing and went and poured myself a glass of scotch.

While I did, I took stock of the two men guarding me.

They weren’t the sharpest tools in the shed.

Ming – or Jin; I had no idea which was which – sat in a chair and leaned back against the wall, far enough that the chair continually threatened to slide out from under him. He seemed to be doing it solely to amuse himself and see if he could keep from falling.

I thought about going over and grabbing the pistol out of his shoulder holster, but I was fairly sure his companion would kill me before I could get a shot off.

The other man sat nearby and started complaining about something in Chinese. The two of them argued back and forth until the guy leaning in the chair raised his voice in irritation.

I had no idea what he said, but it sounded like,Either do it or shut the fuck up!

“Hey,” the complainer called to me in heavily accented English. “We order room service. You want food?”

I glanced over at him, then looked back out the window as I sipped my scotch. “No.”

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