Page 39 of Wired Courage

“Come, then, Connor.” Nine tugged Connor up by his arm once the ropes were off. “Hurry. You must be clean and ready to be in the presence of the Master.”

Connor didn’t like the sound of that, but resistance would get him nowhere—he was outmanned and outmaneuvered. He followed Nine down empty stone hallways lit by slits high near the ceiling. Bars of stark white sunlight beamed through them into the gloomy passageway. Some of these sun spots were cleverly directed, using polished brass mirrors set on the floor and tilted to light different areas, a low-tech way to keep the interior lit. The Egyptians had used such techniques in the Pyramids.

Nine led Connor down several sets of cut stone stairs to a large bathhouse. Water from hot springs formed sulfurous steam in a man-made pool. Nine showed him a bowl of soft vegetable-based soap, and gestured. “Get clean. Dress in a robe over there.” He pointed to a wall lined with pegs where blackgihung in rows.

The mineral-rich water stung a bit, but also soothed Connor’s cuts and bruises. He cleaned himself and dressed. Following Nine back up the stairs to meet the Master, Connor felt his abs tightening with apprehension.

What was going to happen today?More torture? As he’d tossed and turned on his pallet, thinking over what the Master had said the day before, he’d come up with a plan—but just thinking about implementing it dried his mouth.

Nine led Connor out of the main building, through a courtyard filled with practicing ninjas, and down a short flight of stairs to a walled terrace garden.

A gravity-fed fountain trickled into a koi pond lined with water lilies. Smooth grass encircled the pond; beds of herbs and flowers lined the stone walls. A table and chairs were set under a flowering tree.

And across from the pond, the Master sat balanced on the top of a six-foot high plinth made of glowing tiger’s eye.

The column of beautifully carved gemstone caught the morning light, glowing as if lit from within. There was no visible way the man could have gotten up there, and the pillar upon which he sat was no more than a foot in diameter.

The Master was absolutely still, cross-legged in a meditation pose, his fingers held in a mudra, his eyes closed. He looked like a statue in his whitegiatop the post.

Nine inclined his head toward the seating area under the tree, and left. Connor walked over and sat down at the table. Tea steeped in a porcelain pot; covered bowls on a tray emitted delicious smells. Connor’s belly rumbled.

“If you train with me, you will learn to control all aspects of your bodily functions.” The Master’s voice carried clearly, though not amplified in any way Connor could discern. “Including the sounds of your belly.”

The Master planted his hands between his crossed legs on the top of the plinth. Slowly he extended his legs, lifting his lower body off the plinth. He rolled his head forward and down, and then, in an act of extreme strength and controlled grace, lifted himself up into a handstand. Completely vertical above the plinth, the Master stayed perfectly still.

He held the pose beyond what seemed humanly possible—and then, in a whirl of movement almost too fast to follow, flipped and landed on the grass.

The Master walked over to Connor and looked down at him. “Pour the tea.”

The man wasn’t even winded.

Connor poured the tea. The Master uncovered bowls of fruit, scrambled eggs, nuts and fried rice that made Connor’s mouth water.

Connor waited until the Master had served them both and taken a bite, before he dug into his breakfast with a pair of chopsticks. The food was delicious. Once again, he had to try not to eat too quickly—but he’d been hungry for a long time, and last night’s dinner had burned off already.

When they’d mostly finished their meal, the Master spoke. “Have you thought over what I asked you yesterday?”

“What was the question?” Connor sipped his tea and kept his gaze averted, buying time—the Master always seemed to see more than Connor wanted him to.

“I asked you if you wanted to learn.”

“I can’t just stay here. I run a multimillion dollar company. I have responsibilities . . .” Connor ran out of steam.If the Master knew he was the Ghost, he likely knew the rest too.

He had no family. No lover. He had Sophie, but only as a friend. He had his many interests, not least of them righting the scales of justice. He had a company, an island, a dog, a neglected violin, and a lot of money.

“No one will miss you. You have nothing to lose,” the Master said gently.

Connor suppressed a wince. “I have a life, little as you seem to think of it. What do you want from me?”

“I want you to bring Sophie here to donate bone marrow to the crown prince.”

“I have been thinking about that. But I won’t ask her to come here, to this fortress. Instead, I could ask her to go to the hospital in Bangkok. It’s likely she will, as I said before. She loves children, and the prince is family.” Connor set down his teacup. “But I have some things that I want in exchange.”

“Such as?” The Master raised a brow.

“I want you to let Jake go. Sophie needs him. And I want you to make Pim Wat leave Sophie and her daughter alone after she gives the prince her bone marrow. If you do those two things, I will stay here and learn with you.” Nervous sweat broke out on Connor’s body in an uncomfortable, prickly flush, but it gradually faded as the Master stared at him.

Those damn purple eyes . . .

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